


Evenly Matched

by sweetestsorrows (katschako)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Arranged Marriage, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hogwarts Era, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini, Minor Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Minor Theodore Nott/Harry Potter, No Second Wizarding War, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Hermione Granger, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Underage Sex, Voldemort Does Not Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katschako/pseuds/sweetestsorrows
Summary: Hermione Jean Granger Nott is an enigma among purebloods. Raised by a French mother with a high opinion of Muggles, she learns from an early age the value of an open-mind. Along with her brother, Theo and her best friend, Draco, Hermione lives an idyllic childhood. Yet, tragedy strikes shortly before the start of her magical education, and Hermione must learn how to cope with several unexpected challenges. Meanwhile, Draco adjusts to a life at Hogwarts that is nothing like he expected. He lashes out, in a desperate attempt to regain what he thinks he lost, and only drives a wedge further between himself and Hermione. In the process of the growing up, he learns what's truly important, and what he can't live without.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 105
Kudos: 336





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A while back there were a few scenes of Draco and Hermione being stupidly in love that I couldn't get out of my head. 
> 
> So what did I do? I created a world in which Voldemort doesn't come back after being initially defeated and Hermione is a pureblood but keeps most of the traits that make her the character we all love. At least, that was my intention. That being said, there might be some parts that feel a little out of characters since her entire childhood and one of the fundamental parts of her identity are different, and there isn't the threat of war. So, there will probably be some noticeable differences. Oh, and the adults in this story are definitely going to feel out-of-character. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> Thank you, as always, to the amazing and wonderful [Sunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besmirchedmaiden/pseuds/besmirchedmaiden) for beta reading and britpicking this for me!

At the height of his reign of terror, the Dark Lord sent one of his faithful servants on a mission of the utmost importance. Theodore Nott was tasked with infiltrating the French wizarding community to gauge support for the Death Eaters' cause. With Britain nearly under his control, Voldemort began looking towards the other countries in Europe, eager to expand his dominion.

Theodore was never as stalwart a supporter as some the others. He joined the Death Eater ranks out of self-preservation. Although he wasn't proud of it in hindsight, when many other members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight began to rally around Voldemort, Theodore followed. It wasn't an excuse for his behaviours. 

Still, he found the notion of blood superiority to be one he could support. While it was a bit ironic that their leader himself was half-blooded, Theodore found it easier to maintain the status quo.  What he found in France - or rather,  _ who _ he found there - changed the course of his life and that of several others.

Shortly after he arrived in the country, he made the acquaintance of Helene Granger. 

It was meant to be an assignment. After the Dark Lord learnt of the French resistance, he directed Theodore to convince Jean Granger, the head of a powerful French House. Instead, Theodore met Helene and fell prey to her charms. Despite the darkness that awaited him at home, the summer that passed was the best of his life. 

It was full of decadent pastries, long walks on the grounds filled with roses of every variety, and shared kisses under the old willow tree that bordered the Granger estate. Though he tried to resist it at first, he found himself thinking of Helene when they were apart and longing to see her again. He later found out that she was also a seer, one who promptly informed him that his master would be defeated by the most powerful force in the universe.

_ Love. _

Theodore never imagined himself as having to bother with such an inconsequential thing as love. Marriage was meant to be strategic. He expected to make a smart match to a woman of good breeding and lineage, who would bear him a suitable heir. Yet, before he realised what had occurred, Theodore found himself head over heels in love with the woman with the long chestnut curls and eyes the colour of dark chocolate. 

Even though she was a pureblood, she maintained an open mind to many of the Muggle customs and inventions, as did the majority of the French wizarding population. 

Helene opened his eyes not only to the wonders of love but also to the Muggle world, to the extent that he came to regret the part he played in the Dark Lord's rise to power. Thus, together they devised a plan for him to return and resist from within the Death Eater ranks. Theodore would become an informant for the Ministry, and Helene would pose as a sympathiser to spread dissent among the Death Eaters' wives.

It was dangerous work, and when she found out that she was pregnant six months after they wed, Theodore grew nervous. Doubling down on his efforts, he worked tirelessly to aid in the creation of a world where his child could live peacefully.

Hermione Jean Granger Nott was born on September 9, 1979.

When his baby girl entered the world, she screamed so loudly Theodore could have sworn every portrait in Nott Manor heard her. Helene had insisted on choosing a name that was a tribute to the literature she so loved, her own father, and her family name. Theodore could never deny her. From the moment their eyes met, he was lost to her every whim. Brown curls covered his daughter's little head, and Theodore was sure she would be the spitting image of her mother.

When the Malfoys visited a week later to offer their congratulations, he received Lucius in his study, while Narcissa visited with Helene and Hermione in their wing.

"Congratulations," Lucius said, as he strode into the room, the heavy doors closing behind him.

"Thank you, my friend. If all goes according to plan, we'll see the fruits of our efforts before her third birthday." 

Theodore crossed the room and offered Lucius a tumbler of Firewhiskey, which the man accepted with a slight nod of gratitude. Taking a sip of his drink, he waited in silence as the other man pensively gazed at the fire.

"Narcissa is pregnant. So, if I wasn't committed to the cause before I am now, for my son."

"It seems like congratulations are in order all around," Theodore said, raising his glass.

Lucius responded in kind. "And our plan of forming an alliance between our Houses?"

"I'm still in agreement. The merging of the bloodlines would benefit all. When the children reach their sixteenth year, we'll formalise the arrangement with a contract. The vacuum left behind by  _ his _ defeat can be filled by our families, though it will take time for our plan to come to fruition."

Draco Lucius Malfoy was born nearly nine months later, on June 5, 1980.

From the moment he entered the world, his life was planned for him in excruciating detail. After all, it was his duty to uphold two ancient, magical bloodlines. Thus, his future education and career trajectory and spouse were already chosen for him. He and Hermione would marry, and together, they would rule the wizarding world.

Narcissa and Draco visited Helene a month later, whose stomach was heavy with another child. She had been placed on bed rest by the healers but was insistent that her husband make it possible for her to see her friend.

Their son would be named for his father and brought about a more complicated pregnancy for Helene, but nothing would keep her from Narcissa. They held the babies side-by-side, introducing them and smiling delightedly when Draco reached out to grab Hermione's hand.

Although neither argued with their husbands' plans for the arranged marriage, they could only hope the children would find love, as well.


	2. Childhood

At six years old, Hermione was a precocious and intelligent child. She eagerly attended to all the knowledge her mother shared as she learned about the world around her, both magical and Muggle.

With Voldemort defeated five years before and the wizarding world was slowly returning to equilibrium, Helene was more determined than ever that her children grew up in a household that appreciated the contributions Muggles offered.

She had grown up in a community that worked to integrate with the greater world around them, rather than isolate themselves. While the British wizarding community was a bit more reticent in its interactions with Muggles, Helene did her best to introduce the other wives in her social circle to their culture.

There were so many things to be learned and shared. It was a task she took on readily. She would have been remiss if she didn't do the same for her children. 

Therefore, Hermione and Theo knew only happiness as Helene exposed them to literature, music, nature, and the magic of both worlds.

The three of them spent countless hours in the grounds of Nott Manor, learning about different plants and their uses. The gardens weren't quite as grand as those of Malfoy Manor, but Hermione loved them all the same. The sun warmed her skin, and her mother hummed a quiet tune, whilst Hermione and Theo ran through the grass screaming with glee.

"Come on now, my loves!" Helene called. "It's time to go inside now!"

It was time for dinner.

The Notts occasionally relied on the help of free house-elves, but tonight Hermione and her brother would help their mother in preparing the meal. These were some of Hermione's favourite times, as it allowed her to observe her mother in her element. Helene always had an affinity for cooking and baking, and she ensured her children understood the necessary steps in preparing their food.

They would never want for anything. After all, Helene was an only child, as was Theodore. Thus, the entirety of both fortunes would be passed on to Hermione and her brother. Nevertheless, it was an invaluable skill for them both to learn.

Their father was in the city on business, which meant they ate dinner in the kitchen. Hermione and Theo perched on low stools as their mother set the plates in front of them. Afterwards, once the dishes were washed and put away, the floor swept, and the counters wiped, the three retired to the library. 

Hermione knew by now that their mother would not allow playtime until the children had cleaned up for themselves, but the process of doing kitchen chores was still fun. If Hermione threw water at Theo, Helene merely laughed and aided the boy in getting his sister back.

The house-elves they employed were all loyal and hardworking, but Hermione and Theo understood the value of responsibility. Their mother made sure of it. Hermione knew their family was odd among their social circle, but she hardly cared.

They had fun together, their father included.

The years with the children had only served to soften the man further. Although he wasn't quite as open-minded as his wife, he allowed her to raise the children as she saw fit.

That's what mattered.

Hermione and Theo never saw their parents fight. While many pureblood marriages were arranged, the children were fortunate to grow up in a family founded on love. Although it was unrealistic to expect Helene and Theodore would agree on all matters, they both agreed to settle any arguments in the privacy of their quarters.

Upon arriving at the library, Hermione skipped over to the record player. She turned to her brother, who was following her closely.

"What should we listen to, Theo?" Hermione's little voice rang out clearly through the vast room, even though her brother now stood beside her.

"Louis!" Theo responded.

He was practically vibrating with excitement as their mother approached, several beats behind the two energetic children.

"Louis Armstrong, my darlings?"

The children cheered. "Yes!"

Slipping the old, worn record on to the platter and lowered the arm. The rich sounds of a familiar rough voice followed by an upbeat trumpet filled the space and Hermione took Theo by the hand. Linking hands with their mother to form a circle, the three began to spin around and around the room.

Hermione and Theo both laughed brightly, pure joy radiating from their little faces. Helene smiled down at them, their emotions mirrored on her lovely features. As her father predicted, Hermione was a miniature version of her mother. Theo also had dark, curly hair, but his eyes were a rich green, just like Theodore.

Together they made a precious set, the eleven months separating them hardly evident. Many thought the two to be twins, though Hermione was quick to correct them. 

Once the children were properly worn out, Helene herded them to her room. Since their father was away, the two of them would sleep with her. It was a treat that they always looked forward to during his trips.

As Theo had chosen their music for the evening, Hermione chose the book they would read. Helene maintained an extensive library for them to select from, but Hermione always leaned towards the Muggle stories, just like her mother.

Although there were some excellent wizard children stories, Hermione found the Muggle writers to be far more interesting. There was just more variety. However, instead of choosing an adventure they had not yet explored, Hermione selected a tried and true favourite, _The Hobbit_.

Although Theo preferred the tales of the Pevensie children in Narnia, it was one he loved as well. Excited by the prospect of revisiting the Shire and the journey towards the Lonely Mountain, Hermione and Theo bounced through their nighttime routine with no complaints. 

Settling comfortably on either side of their mother, they curled their bodies against hers. Comforted by her warmth, Hermione and Theo were ushered into the land of dreams by her soft, lilting voice.

* * *

"Nott! I challenge you to a duel!" Draco said. His voice rang loud and clear, confidence oozing from his small features. 

A toy wand was held firmly in his hand as the other boy looked at him apprehensively. Theo was not nearly as fun to play with as Hermione, but she sat in the grass nearby, her nose buried in a book. 

Why was she always reading? 

It would have been more thrilling if she agreed to a game of exploding snaps, although he didn't bother to ask. He already knew she would tell him it was dangerous.

Better yet, he wished she would agree to race him on their tiny brooms. Unfortunately, Hermione hated flying. She would have made a good duel partner, too. Yet despite his best attempt to get her attention, she wouldn't give him a second glance.

All she ever wanted to do was read, or other types of boring things like chess and collecting herbs to play-act at making potions.

"It's not _really_ a duel if you're fighting with fake wands," Hermione said, without even looking up.

Of course, the only time she would join the conversation was to correct him. She was so annoying. Draco wasn't even sure why he wanted to play with her, to begin with, if that was how she wanted to act.

"You're such a know-it-all." Draco rolled his eyes.

Hermione merely shrugged nonchalantly, turning the page in her book as her eyes flew across the lines of print. When Draco glanced towards her brother, hoping for support, Theo was merely watching the exchange intently.

"Who cares if it's real, anyway?" Draco continued when it became evident that she had no intention of further engaging with the boys.

"Then call it a pretend duel."

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"Well, I am older than you," she said.

"By nine months!"

Ever since she turned eight a few weeks before, Hermione had been unbearable. She seemed to think that gave her an advantage over Draco and Theo, who were still seven years old. As if it made any difference. They would still all attend Hogwarts together, the dates of their births, allowing them to begin their magical journey at the same time.

"It makes all the difference."

Sometimes he wondered if she could read his mind. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised. She was smart, scarily so.

Finally looking up from her book, Hermione flashed him a mischievous grin. The glint in her eyes said it all. She thought he was better than him, stronger than him, and because she was a girl, there wasn't much Draco could do about it.

"I could still kick your bum," he muttered.

"Then do it," Hermione responded, at the same time that Theo gasped.

The challenge was evident in her tone, but before Draco realised what was happening, Theo had launched himself towards the blond boy, presumably in defence of his sister. They tumbled around the lawn, not swinging with intent to hurt, but agitating Hermione all the same.

"That's enough, Theo!"

At the sound of his sister's voice, Theo immediately released his hold around Draco's neck. Draco didn't understand why she was upset. After all, hadn't she implied that she would be willing to fight him? 

Girls were so confusing. 

Well, one girl was confusing. Draco couldn't really say for the rest of them, considering Hermione and Theo were his only regular playmates.

He stared at her pointedly, wondering if he would ever understand her motives.

Maybe she thought Theo would lose, or perhaps she didn't want her younger brother getting in trouble if their mothers happened to check in on them. It was unlikely, but it might happen.

Regardless, her intervention came at just the right moment. Before she called Theo off, Draco wasn't quite sure how he was going to get out of the other boy's grasp. He had somehow gotten himself stuck, with Theo standing behind him and his arm holding Draco in place.

Still, despite Theo stopping, Draco managed one last elbow right in Theo's stomach. The brunette boy doubled over, groaning in pain at the sudden impact.

"Draco Malfoy! That was unfair!"

She was so bossy. Draco could see her shoulders rising and falling harshly, and her hair was crackling as she readied to lecture them both. Despite their young age, Hermione could reprimand with the same air of confidence as all the adults Draco knew. He had, unfortunately, been on the receiving end of said rebukes far too many times since the three of them had learned to speak.

Draco crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath. He knew better than to argue with her, but that didn't mean he was happy about what came next.

"Sorry," Draco said, turning halfway toward the boy. 

He didn't quite look him the eye. That was more than even Hermione could force him to do. Instead, he looked up and off into the distance. An air of superiority that could only be bred and instilled from a young age radiated from him.

"S'fine," Theo answered. "You should say sorry to Hermione, too."

At that Draco spluttered. Since when did little Theo Nott grow a spine? Ever since they were young, Theo was always following either Draco or Hermione around one of their family estates. He was quiet and pensive, never one to retort.

"Why would I do that?"

"You mentioned her... _you-know-what_." 

At that, Theo glanced away, a light flush spreading across his cheeks.

"He only meant it metaphorically," Hermione said to her brother.

Two minutes was apparently too long for her to stay silent. Leave it up to Hermione to butt in just to show off her swotiness.

"Meta-what?" Theo said.

Draco was thankful the other boy asked. He had no idea, either, but he would rather die than admit it.

"He wasn't talking about my actual bum," Hermione said. 

She laughed, effectively dispelling any lingering tension. Smiling at her brother, she walked towards Theo and helped him stand straight. 

Draco wished she smiled at him like that.

* * *

Hermione bounced up and down, tugging her mother's hand as they walked towards the passage that would usher them from Diagon Alley to the Muggle London.

"Slow down, sweetheart," Helene said with a laugh.

Heeding her mother, Hermione paused for several seconds before the raw energy began to course through her again. She looked to her brother, who was just as excited. Theo was much better at schooling his features, though. Behind them, she heard Draco speaking to his mother, her Aunt Narcissa. Hermione knew that Narcissa wasn't actually her aunt, but given the amount of time the two families spent together, it felt right.

She doted on Hermione and Theo nearly to the extent that she indulged Draco, and Hermione loved spending time with the woman. It helped that Helene and Narcissa were such close friends. Hermione knew that her mother wanted Narcissa to be as comfortable with the Muggle world as she and her children wore.

Although no one asked Hermione, she wholeheartedly agreed with the notion. The Muggles had so much to offer, and every time her mother brought home a novel invention, a new book, or another record, it felt as though Christmas had come early.

"Do we have to go, Mother?" Draco said.

The two caught up with the Notts, though not for lack of effort on Draco's part to resist. His face was twisted into a petulant little pout, one with which Hermione was too familiar. He was such a whiny baby when he didn't get his way. It never worked on her, though there was a good chance Narcissa could succumb to it.

"Yes, little dragon, we do."

Hermione bit back a smile at hearing the name with which Narcissa still referred to Draco. She found it to be sweet, but she knew Draco, who had finally turned eight, did not. On multiple occasions, he had protested, insisting to his mother that he was far too old for her to call him that. Narcissa had merely pinched his cheek, eliciting an even deeper blush.

Though it took significant self-control to not tease him about it at that moment, Hermione managed. He was already well on his way to being insufferable, and she didn't want the entire trip ruined by his poor attitude. When she and Theo woke that morning, it was to expectations of a lovely day at a Muggle museum, followed by a trip to a wizarding zoo.

It would be splendid, and nothing, not even a grouchy Draco, would ruin that for Hermione. 

In three months she would turn nine, and Hermione couldn't wait. Helene had promised another trip to the Muggle world, this time to a library. Part of Hermione hoped that the Malfoys wouldn't be invited along if this was how Draco would act every time they did something new.

However, there was another part of her, a louder voice within her, that wanted him there. He was intolerable on most days, but Hermione found that she still enjoyed being around him.

He was smart. Possibly as smart as Hermione was, though much less dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge. Still, whenever she talked to him about varying things she learned, he listened attentively and asked all the right questions.

Although he could be a terror, Hermione also knew he was incredibly loyal. Whenever she, Theo, and Draco had socialised with other children, Draco wouldn't stand for any teasing of either of his friends.

Pansy Parkinson, in particular, always seemed to have it out for Hermione. She repeatedly made comments about Hermione's hair or the books she carried with her like faithful companions. Even Theo, in his non-intrusive observant manner, was offensive to the other girl. She thought it was strange that he wasn't more lively. In private, Draco teased her and Theo about the same things. 

However, in public, he was the first to defend them both. Whenever Pansy said a single mean thing about either of the Notts, Draco was just as quick to bite back with a scathing insult.

That was why, after Theo, Draco was the best friend Hermione had. She wanted him to experience and appreciate the same things she did, to learn of the marvels of the Muggle world that her mother had shown her.

While being a witch was amazing, Hermione knew the importance of unique perspectives. There were many ingenious inventions created by Muggles since they didn't have the convenience of magic.

Breaking from Helene's hold, Hermione went to stand beside Draco and his mother. She smiled up at Narcissa briefly before turning to the blond boy who was scuffling his shoes against the pavement.

It was very unbecoming of a Malfoy, but Hermione knew he was nervous.

"C'mon, Draco. It'll be fun."

An outstretched hand reached towards him, as grey eyes met brown ones. Hermione flashed him a confident, encouraging grin, hoping to convey the same sort of reassurance that she always felt when she looked at her mother.

He didn't appear convinced.

"I don't know… Father said—”

"Your father doesn't know everything," Narcissa responded.

Draco and Hermione both looked at her in surprise. 

It was rare to hear either of their mothers speak out against their fathers. The only time the children had heard such utterances were when they were sneaking through the hidden passages of Malfoy Manor and accidentally snooped on adult conversations.

"But..." Draco said. He wasn't ready to give up.

"No buts, Draco. Take Hermione's hand and let's get on with it."

It was even rarer for Narcissa to take such a stern approach with Draco. His surprise at the shift in his mother's tone startled Draco into action. He glanced towards Hermione shyly before slowly slotting his hand into hers.

A spark of magic coursed between the two of them, shocking them both, but Hermione promptly brushed it aside as she pulled Draco forward.

In her determination and his effort to keep up, the children missed the knowing look shared by Narcissa and Helene.

* * *

An owl was waiting for Draco as he burst through the dining room doors. Though a displeased look flashed across Lucius' features, a silent glare from Narcissa effectively silenced the man.

Nothing would dampen Draco's joy at celebrating his eleventh birthday, not if his mother had any say in it.

Draco tore the envelope open, eyes quickly scanning a letter he had expected from the moment he learned of Hogwarts. As soon as he had read the note three times, just to be sure, he sped through breakfast. It was customary for him to open one of his presents and thank his parents, both of which he did with practised ease.

Once he was through, Draco looked to his mother, who nodded slightly.

He bounded back out into the hallway and raced to the fireplace, waiting for his mother to catch up so they could Floo to Nott Manor. The letter was tucked neatly and safely in his pocket, ready to be shown to his friends.

Hermione had received hers ages ago, a fact that made him quite jealous. Logically, he knew he wouldn't get his letter until he turned eleven, but there was still a seed of anxiety that bloomed from the moment hers arrived. He wanted so badly to prove that he was as smart as her, as talented as her, even if she was rather annoying most of the time.

When Narcissa and Draco stepped through to the Nott residence, they found Helene, Hermione, and Theo waiting for them. Polite pleasantries were exchanged before the children were released to play.

As soon as they entered the wing that Hermione and Theo shared, Theo rounded on Draco. "Well? Did it come?"

It was more than Theo usually said, and he certainly was never the one to initiate conversation. He must be feeling just as nervous as Draco had felt before the letter arrived. Draco grinned at him smugly and pulled the envelope from where it was stored. 

Seizing it from his grasp, Theo opened it and began reading silently.

"It's the same as mine, Theo, and it'll be the same as yours," Hermione said. She patted her brother's back sympathetically. Draco rolled his eyes.

Now that he _had_ gotten his Hogwarts letter, it was easy to forget how he had been equally nervous. The three of them had all shown evidence of accidental magic, but until Hogwarts formally confirmed their magical abilities, it was impossible not to fear the worst.

"What if I don't get one?" 

Theo met her gaze, worry evident across his features. He began to chew on his bottom lip, as he did when he was concerned.

"Of course, you will, Theo. Yours will come on your birthday, just like ours did," Hermione said. She gave him that same little smile that always made Draco feel better. That was when he decided to jump in.

"Maybe he's a Squib."

It was mean, and he knew it, but Draco couldn't stop himself. Theo looked at him with hurt in his eyes before throwing the letter on the ground. Without another word, he ran to his room. 

Draco allowed himself one moment of sick satisfaction before turning towards her Hermione. It was clear that she was less than pleased. In place of the smile, a frown now turned the corners of her mouth downward.

"Really, Draco? You and I both know he's not a Squib." 

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, glaring at him menacingly as she waited for an explanation.

"I was just joking," Draco said.

"Well, no one’s laughing, are they?"

"You're such a pain. I'll apologise to him."

It was better to concede than to ruin his birthday by fighting with her. Draco felt a sense of relief flush through him as her stance relaxed.

"Thank you. Now, what should we do?"

"Are you actually letting me decide?"

"Well, it is your birthday," Hermione said.

"I'll tell you what we won't do." A playful smirk spread across his face.

Hermione gazed at him, unaffected and patient as he remained silent. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to continue, she rolled her eyes and huffed. "What's that?"

"Read _Hogwarts: A History_ aloud," he said.

She smacked his arm in indignation as he dissolved into a fit of laughter. The sting of her palm was worth the heated look that she turned towards him.

"That was an excellent way to spend my birthday! Everyone should read it. I thought I saw a first edition copy of it once in your library—"

"Stop, stop." Draco smacked his hand across her mouth. "I'll bring it the next time we visit, okay? Just stop talking about that book!"

"I don't think I should stop, not until you stand its importance!"

"It's my birthday, though, and I say we're doing something else."

"Fine, then. What should we do?"

"That's it? I thought you were going to hit me over the head with your pocket copy of it, or something equally violent."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Consider it your present."

"I was hoping for a different present." 

He looked at her slyly, gauging her reaction.

"What is it?"

"A kiss."

Hermione stared at him, utterly silent for the first time he could remember. Her eyes were open wide, and her brows furrowed.

"A kiss? Draco, we're far too young—"

"I overheard father telling Mr Greengrass that you and I are betrothed, so I couldn't marry one of his daughters."

Another minute passed as Hermione digested the information shared.

"Oh, alright then."

She leaned towards him, aiming for his cheek, just as Draco turned to offer another retort. Their lips brushed, just barely, but it was enough to turn both their faces beet red.

"I, um—" Draco said, trying desperately to diffuse the tension.

Hermione interjected before he could finish his thought, her voice no more than a high-pitched squeak. "Sorry!"

Panic was etched on her features, but before Draco could say another word, she turned and fled. 

* * *

As Hermione promised, Theo received his Hogwarts letter on his birthday, with less than a month before the term started. The Notts celebrated grandly that night, their father joining in on the festivities as the children prepared to begin their magical education.

Hermione felt fortunate that she would be able to share classes with her brother. Things had been awkward with Draco since his birthday, and she wasn't sure how starting school would affect their friendship.

It was reassuring to know she would always have Theo.

Everything was falling into place, just as she knew it would.

The trip to collect their robes, books, and other supplies went splendidly. Her mother even allowed her to get a cat for a familiar! Theo chose an owl, which Hermione thought was a solid choice. She might have chosen one, too, if it hadn't been for the precious orange ball of fur that caught her eye.

It felt nearly impossible to contain her excitement as she and Theo began to count down the days until their journey at Hogwarts would begin.

Two weeks after Theo's birthday, tragedy struck. What should have been an incredible time in their young lives turned into a nightmare.

Helene had taken the children to visit her parents in France. She insisted to her husband that she wanted to take the children on a road trip. They would travel through the countryside where she grew up, while he remained at the manor. The experience of being in a car was exhilarating. While Hermione still maintained a staunch disdain for brooms, the convertible her mother rented offered the same freedom of wind in her hair without the risk of falling from a flimsy piece of wood.

However, after the night she lost her mother, Hermione was sure she would never willingly enter a car again.

It was a blessing, a _miracle_ , that Hermione and Theo both survived the accident that claimed their mother's life. Or so the doctors at the Muggle hospital insisted as the children waited for their grandparents to arrive. Yet, nothing about it felt miraculous.

From that moment on, everything was different.

When the children returned home, the shift in their father was evident. He had never been an outgoing, expressive sort of person. Hermione knew he loved them, and it was clear he loved their mother, but these were not words he often communicated. The loss of his wife only compounded his introverted tendencies.

Thus, many of the hostess duties fell to Hermione as her family began the funeral rituals that were customary for pureblood wizards and witches. She donned formal robes as black as the inky night sky. Her hair was perfectly coiffed by the house-elf that attended to her. With a thin smile pasted on her face, Hermione graciously received the guests who came to offer their condolences.

The pain that accompanied her loss was forced into a small box and filed away for dealing with at a better time if such a time ever arrived. Narcissa was a source of support for her during those times, guiding her in the way a mother would, but ultimately the duties tied to being the lady of the house fell to Hermione.

On the day of the burial, after her mother was in the ground, Hermione was able to take off the mask of neutrality she so carefully held in place for the first time. She had hidden in a secret nook in the garden, one that was only known to her, Theo, and Draco.

When she heard soft footsteps approaching, she hoped it might be Theo, telling her she was needed in the house. She wasn't that lucky.

She hadn't spoken to Draco since his birthday, and she lacked the energy to do so now. He had paid his respects alongside his parents earlier in the week, but no more than passing words were exchanged between the two.

Her heart beat faster, though whether it was from anxiety or something else, she couldn't be certain.

"Hi," Draco said. He sounded hesitant, unsure.

"I can't really talk right now."

"You haven't spoken to me since—"

"I said I can't talk now," she repeated through gritted teeth.

"Please, Hermione, I'm sorry for—"

"Don't say it! I'm so sick and tired of people apologising as if that could change anything. Your 'sorry' means nothing. It doesn't change the fact of what happened. Just leave me alone, Draco. I don't want to talk."

Tears were streaming down her face. She hadn't cried since that night, and now it felt like the tears would never stop. Hermione brushed them away, angry and embarrassed that he had seen her at such a vulnerable moment. Turning her back towards him, she collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap, her face in her hands as sobs began to escape her.

A light thump alerted her of an object being placed on the ground next to where she sat, and slow footsteps marked his departure. Once she knew he was truly gone, she looked to the side to see the first edition copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , wrapped in a protective charm. 

On top of the book was a small handkerchief.

She grabbed it instinctively, wiping her eyes. 

The memory of Helene teaching her how to slow her breathing brought a fresh wave of pain crashing through her. Still, Hermione cleared her mind and practised, just as she had learned.

Once she felt marginally calmer, at least enough so to not burst into tears, Hermione collected herself and the book and walked back to the manor. The guests were long gone, which meant she could retreat to her bedroom in peace.

Setting the book on the nightstand, she collapsed onto her mattress and fell into a fitful sleep. If she was fortunate, maybe she could sleep until it was time to leave for Hogwarts, where classes and learning could serve as a distractor for her grief.


	3. First Year

Draco looked for her curly, chestnut head of hair at the station, nearly losing his parents in the process, but to no avail. Theo wasn't anywhere to be seen, either. Kissing his mother on the cheek and shaking his father's hand, he boarded the Hogwarts Express, disappointment coursing through him at not having found Hermione or Theo. 

He always expected that they would begin this journey like they did everything else - _together_. They’d grown up so enmeshed in each other’s lives, it was unimaginable to consider a moment they hadn’t been around. Draco was hesitant to admit it aloud, but the past few weeks had been lonely without his constant companions. He understood that the two of them needed time to grieve. Still, he held onto the hope that he would find Hermione and Theo on the platform waiting for him.

Ever since he could remember, it felt like at every important milestone in his life, Hermione and Theo had been by his side. Maybe they were already settled into a compartment, waiting for him. Draco began to walk the length of the train, looking for his friends.

He could hear whispers as he searched, his pale, blonde hair the trademark of a Malfoy. Others knew who he was, although he had never met most of them. Even some of the older students looked at him with a sort of deference. They were probably in Slytherin, also. Some faces looked vaguely familiar, from all the social functions his mother forced him to attend.

Still, it was rather strange. His father regularly told Draco how special he was. Not only was he a Malfoy, but he was also a Black. He was the descendant of two ancient bloodlines. He was a pureblood in the truest sense of the word. Even among witches and wizards, those who were gifted with magic, Draco was extraordinary.

Although his mother ensured that Draco was thoroughly exposed to the Muggle world and culture, he had no intention of living in it. The knowledge of Muggles would be helpful, somewhere down the line. Of that, he was sure. However, Draco would always be a part of the wizarding world, and in this world, he was a prince.

No matter how many times his father had tried to instil that belief, it never really struck Draco as real. After all, Draco spent most of his time with Hermione and Theo, and neither of them treated him as if he were someone special. To them, he was just Draco. That was all good and well. He saw them both as equals. If anything, Hermione was even more remarkable than he. 

Not only was she a pureblood, but she was also frighteningly bright. He was sure that if anything, it would be _her_ ruling their world one day.

So, Draco wouldn't begrudge the fact that neither of his friends looked at him with a sense of awe, the way that other students on the train did. He reached the end of the last car when two boys appeared behind him. The plan was to complete one more sweep before settling in, but the larger frames blocked his path.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Vincent said, as he introduced them both.

Draco merely rolled his eyes in response. He knew who they were, of course. They had all grown up together, even if he saw the other children less frequently than the Notts.

"What do you want?" 

He knew he sounded harsher than he intended, but Draco had a mission to complete. Find Hermione and Theo, ensure that they were alright, and spend the rest of the trip in their company.

"Our fathers told us to find you," Gregory said.

Was that supposed to answer his question?

"What for?" Draco crossed his arms in his best imitation of Lucius.

"I dunno," Gregory said.

"They told us to do whatever you said," Vincent added.

Well, that was unexpected. Draco knew that other pureblood families often deferred to the Malfoys, but he hadn't quite realised that extended to him as well, at least not yet.

Lucius was a leader among their community, and Narcissa was at the centre of every social event. Still, Draco didn't anticipate that the influence of his name would start so early on. It wasn't as though Hermione or even Theo ever listened to him, or treated him as if he were special.

His father had mentioned it throughout his childhood, that at Hogwarts, Draco would be respected. He would be expected to carry himself in a way that cast their family in a good light. 

From the moment he stepped through the door of the old school, he needed to be careful of whom he associated. Draco knew his father would demand only the highest grades and involvement with the Quidditch team as soon as Draco was able to try out. It was exhausting to think about, but he had anticipated having Hermione and Theo for support.

Speaking of... Where were they?

He turned his attention back to Vincent and Gregory, who merely looked at him stupidly.

"Alright. Follow me. Have either of you seen the Notts?"

By their continued blank stares, that the name had not registered.

"Hermione and Theo. They both have brown, curly hair? We were all at their estate a few weeks ago," Draco said. 

He could feel his impatience rising.

"Oh, right! For the lady that di—"

Draco socked Vincent in the arm before he could finish his sentence. He flashed them both a warning glare.

"Don't bring that up. Especially not around either of them."

Both boys nodded in response.

"Come on, then."

Despite Draco's best efforts and the bumbling antics of the other two, neither of the Nott children were seen. He did run across a frantic boy looking for a frog, but couldn't be bothered to stop. Hermione might have helped him. No, she definitely would have. She probably would have also forced Draco and Theo to assist in the matter.

Her continued absence was starting to cause Draco to panic. 

What if she delayed a year? 

Or, maybe she went to Beauxbatons instead, like her mother?

He might have kept looking for her if the snack trolley hadn't distracted him. It was impossible to resist sweets. 

Then, he saw Blaise, Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent. His mother would have been so disappointed if he didn't behave as was socially expected with other children of pureblood families. He only meant to stop and say hello, but then Blaise pulled him into a conversation about the latest Quidditch matches.

Pansy simpered and fawned over him, and though he never liked the way she treated the Notts, it was hard not to feel a little validated by the attention. Maybe her parents directed her similarly, just like Gregory and Vincent's fathers had.

Before he knew it, the Prefects were telling them it was time to change into their robes and then, the train was slowing to a stop.

His mind flashed back to Hermione, but he couldn't dwell on her absence for long before he was being ushered from the train and towards the start of his magical journey.

Draco felt the excitement growing as he considered what the night would entail. He had grilled his parents on the sorting process, and despite their reassurances, he still felt an inkling of anxiety.

What if he wasn't sorted into Slytherin?

It was a ludicrous notion, of course.

Malfoys and Blacks had always been placed in Slytherin, save for a few oddballs. Still, Draco had to force back nerves at the possibility. He needed to slide the mask in place, one that showed the world he was a confident, self-assured Malfoy.

He would prove to everyone that he was worthy of the name. Many of the other students clearly had preconceived expectations of who he was, or who he should be. Draco wouldn't let his father or mother down by being anything less than a perfect picture of a pureblood wizard.

It would make him feel better if Hermione was around, though.

* * *

The wonder of seeing Hogwarts for the first time as they skimmed across the lake began to put Hermione at ease.

The past few weeks had been such a nightmare. The loss of her mother, combined with the anxiety of such a monumental life change, had left Hermione a nervous wreck. The last two nights had been so bad that she hardly slept at all.

When the morning of their departure arrived, Hermione was the first awake. She gathered her belongings, ensured Theo had all of his packed neatly and hugged the tearful house-elves good-bye.

Most of them would be dispersed to other Nott properties, as her father had no intention of remaining in their Manor without Helene or the children.

Per her planning, she and Theo were the first to arrive at the station. Hermione wanted to avoid having to exchange pleasantries and acknowledge more words of comfort. She had been offered condolences more in the past two weeks than she ever hoped to hear in a lifetime.

She and Theo stiffly bid their father farewell and found a tucked away compartment at the end of the train. It was somewhere to hide, to avoid the masses, at least for at least a while longer. Pulling the door closed and locking it, the curtains were drawn, and they passed the trip in peaceful silence.

Reading the book that Draco had given her, she allowed her mind to drift and her mood to lift as she considered what the next years would entail. Though her mother attended the French wizarding school, it did nothing to quell the passion she instilled in Hermione and Theo regarding their formal education. Helene had even badgered Theodore until he told the children of his time at Hogwarts and of the various Houses and experiences they would soon have.

Still, despite the growing excitement as they grew closer to their destination, Hermione and her brother were among the last to leave the train. She still wasn't ready to put on the social graces and engage in the formalities required of her, not quite yet.

The entire year would be full of studying, socialising, forming alliances, and trying to survive. Hermione was a Nott, and certain expectations came along with the name. Now that her mother was gone, she would only have her Aunt Narcissa for guidance. While she loved the woman dearly, she also knew how intense Narcissa could be. 

So, for just a few precious minutes longer, Hermione opted for peace.

She appreciated the splendour of the castle, with all its twinkling lights, and squeezed Theo's hand. They would be okay.

At least she could now go for five minutes without crying. That was at least a start. With a full schedule of coursework and activities, it would only get easier to begin mending her spirit. Hermione repeated that in her mind like a mantra.

Arriving at the Entrance Hall behind the rest of her year, Hermione's eyes immediately fell to a blond head of hair. He was at the top of the steps, a group of the other pureblood children behind him. It seemed like he was trying to befriend Harry Potter.

Hermione knew of the boy in name alone, and what she did know was through her independent reading. When the Dark Lord was defeated, Harry was orphaned. He had been adopted by his godfathers and taken to America. Neither of her parents was keen on discussing the events that ended the war, but the boy was still a bit of a legend among the wizarding community.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle. I'm Malfoy... Draco, Malfoy," Draco said to Harry, just as Hermione and Theo reached the foot of the steps.

Hermione hoped they weren't going to all be referred to by their surnames now. With both she and Theo in the same year, things might get confusing. She was pulled from her thoughts as a tense air settled on the group of First Years. From what she could gather, the redheaded boy beside Harry must have done something to offend Draco. 

Not that it was hard, but Hermione could tell Draco was irate.

His face twisted into a scowl as Draco insulted the boy, a Weasley, before turning back to Harry and promptly informing him that some wizarding families were better than others. Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco could be so obnoxious.

She watched as Draco extended his hand in an offer of friendship, only to be promptly rebuffed by Harry. Well, this year was starting strongly.

"Boys." Hermione huffed in exasperation. It was low enough that only Theo could hear her, but he seemed to agree with the sentiment.

It was clear that Draco was ready to retort, to fan the flames of what might be a budding rivalry.

"Draco," Hermione said, calling his attention, "why must you insult people the moment you meet them?"

His eyes widened at seeing her before annoyance coloured his features once more. "I was trying to help him!"

"He clearly doesn't want your help," she responded.

Something akin to betrayal flashed across his features. Hermione hadn't meant it as an insult, but Draco evidently saw it that way. Or, maybe it was the fact that she called him out, in front of all their classmates. His eyes became stony and cold as if he thought she was supposed to rebuke the strange, brown-haired boy instead of her childhood friend. 

Though, if she thought about it, he had always done the same for her.

A swell of regret rose in her chest, but before she could make amends and smooth his ruffled feathers, the heavy doors opened, and they were ushered into the Great Hall.

She hoped she might get his attention as they all lined up for the sorting, but there were several students between them. It wouldn't do to embarrass him further by trying to apologize when others could hear.

As expected, Draco, Hermione, and Theo were all sorted into Slytherin, as were several other familiar faces. However, by the time she arrived at the table, Vincent and Gregory were already flanking Draco.

She sat by Daphne instead, Theo taking the seat on her other side. The group was complete when Pansy and Blaise joined them. Pansy pointedly ignored Hermione, aside from a curt nod. All the better. Hermione had no desire to interact with the other girl. She would have no complaints if they could complete the entirety of their education, ignoring each other.

Blaise sat across from her and flashed a brilliant grin.

"Nott," Blaise said, to Theodore.

"Granger," he continued, nodding to Hermione.

"Since when do we go by our surnames?"

"The boys are going to be referring to us as such," Daphne said. "Draco decided that while we were aboard the train, though I think it's a bit cumbersome. We missed you two, by the way."

She flashed a sympathetic smile at Hermione and Theo. It was clear she meant well, but Hermione resented any modicum of pity that might be directed their way.

"Why am I to be called Granger, while Theo gets to be Nott? I'm the oldest."

"Draco said you look more like a Granger."

"And we're just doing whatever Draco says?"

The question didn't warrant answering. 

She glanced over at where Draco now held court, the remainder of the First Years and several other younger students around him. It was clear the group was hanging on to his every word.

* * *

Draco looked up, his eyes landed on Hermione, as she entered the Common Room. She kept a strict schedule and after nearly three months in school, he knew it by heart. If he had glanced at the clock on the mantel place, he could have predicted her arrival almost down to the second. She walked through the Common Room towards the student quarters. That must mean dinner was soon approaching. Theo and Blaise were on either side of her, and a stack of heavy books sat in her arms. 

It seemed she never went anywhere anymore without them - the boys and the books. Usually, Daphne was with them also, but Draco didn't give her much of a second thought. However, every time he considered how easily the Notts had replaced him, with _Blaise_ of all people, a swell of jealousy coursed through him. Granted, Draco had refused Hermione's initial efforts to speak with him, immediately following the incident with Harry. 

That was how it had always been between them, though, when one would upset the other. The offended party, usually Hermione, would employ the ever effective cold shoulder technique. Then, after several days had passed the guilty party, often Draco, would approach again with a second apology. Sometimes the roles would be switched, but the pattern remained the same.

Yet, somehow, without Draco even realising it, everything had changed since the end of summer. Neither of them had talked about the kiss that transpired on his birthday. When he asked for it initially, it had been half in jest and half in challenge. Just to see if she would do it. When it became evident she would, he had moved to stop her.

He knew that she meant to kiss him on the cheek, of course, but the awkward liplock that occurred instead still made him blush.

Then, there was the interaction after her mother died. Draco had meant to offer his condolences. That's what everyone did for him when his Grandfather Abraxas passed away. Maybe though, since he and Hermione were actually friends, he was supposed to do more.

At that moment, Draco wished he had stayed, comforted her, or even just held her hand as she cried. Instead like a coward, he ran.

Nonetheless, despite the uncomfortable events that happened before school started, Draco knew he was well in his rights to be offended when Hermione had chastised him. He might tease her in private, and often at that, but he would _never_ speak out against her in front of others. The fact that she had done so to him still made his blood simmer, especially over a boy who was no more than a stranger.

Everyone else in their year was ready to defer to him from the moment he stepped on the train. They _respected_ him. Even Theo, Blaise, and Daphne, even if they were her friends, wouldn't dare to challenge him. Hermione did so without batting an eyelash. Draco knew she was trying to make amends when she asked to sit by him in the very first class of the year. 

Still, that was only a day afterwards!

That was why he had glared at her and gone to sit by Pansy instead, without bothering to respond. She should have known better. The hurt in her eyes gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction, one that only built when he ignored her attempt to speak with him in the hallway later that day.

It served her right, choosing some random, ill-mannered boy over Draco. At the time, he hadn't intended to stay mad at her forever.

When she tried, once more, in the Common Room a few days late, it was still too soon, and the setting was far too public.

If the others saw that Draco easily forgave her, they might see him as weak. So, instead of hearing her out, he summoned Vincent and Gregory and marched out to head towards dinner.

Since then, Hermione had been polite, if not distant. She seemed to have fallen into a comfortable routine of speaking up in class, reading and working on homework until the library closed, and not talking to Draco.

He didn't know how it was so easy for her. Even if he was still a little mad at her, Draco missed her. Yet, she had quickly restructured her life around his absence without a second thought.

Now, Blaise and Daphne joined Hermione and Theo to form an intimate little group. They partnered for all the classes and studied together. When they weren't holed up in the library, they could be found in the Common Room, playing chess, reading, or discussing coursework. 

It was such a bore.

Draco had been tempted to join them, once or twice. Nevertheless, before he could take even a step in their direction, his pride stopped him. Why should he approach her? What purpose would it serve?

If she wanted to make other friends, then he would, too. Or, he would try to. Draco wasn't sure that Vincent and Gregory qualified as _friends_. They were more like lackeys. Pansy, for all her best efforts, wasn't nearly as stimulating a conversationalist either. She was ready to concede to him on any account, without even a hint of a challenge.

Still, at least those three appreciated who he was. They thrived off the power and prestige that an association with Draco Malfoy could offer, and that alone was enough to make them valuable.

Every now and then, when Gregory was saying something incredibly dumb at mealtime or if Pansy was boring him with discussions of _girl_ things, Draco would glance over at Hermione.

She looked peaceful, in her element. She was eager to share her knowledge, to showcase her mind, and the professors loved her for it. Though Draco made a semblance of teasing her for her swotty ways, he secretly admired her dedication. Even if they were no longer on the best of terms and even though he was still a tiny bit angry with her, he was happy to see his friend doing so well.

Draco turned his attention back to the parchment. He had been writing a letter to his mother before becoming distracted by Hermione’s entrance, and it would be best to finish it before he left for the meal.

_Dear Mother,_

_I hope you and father are well. I miss you both and look forward to seeing you over the Christmas holidays. Thank you for sending the sweets and pastries. They were well received, and have served to make me more popular among the younger students._

_I am excelling in all my courses, though it pains me to inform you that Hermione's grades are better than mine across the board. Try as I might to best her, I've been unsuccessful thus far. Frankly, I think she's only at the top of our grade because she's willing to sacrifice a social life in favour of spending her free time in the library. I, on the other hand, am doing just as you and father raised me. While I maintain good grades, I've also taken leadership of the Slytherin First Years. The group heeds my every word, as do some of the Second and Third Years. To your question as to how Hermione and Theo are doing, I can't say. I think they’re both doing well. We don't see each other often, other than in the Common Room, but that isn't exactly the most private setting to inquire as to all the topics you included in your last letter. It may be best for you to write either of them directly. While we aren't on bad terms, we are no longer as close as we were before starting school._

_I will write again soon._

_Your Loving Son,_

_Draco_

* * *

"Hermione, you really should attend! It's the final match of the season!"

Setting her book on her nightstand and rolling over to face Daphne, Hermione flashed her friend an appraising look.

"I just don't see how it'll be any different from the other matches," Hermione said.

Daphne was already dressed, with emerald green accessories to showcase her House spirit. She smiled brightly at Hermione, still trying to persuade her to change her mind.

"It'll determine who wins the Cup! Then, whoever that is will skyrocket in the House standings! I know you care about those," Daphne said.

"Yes, and I still think it's absolutely ridiculous that winning in that stupid sport carries more weight than all the hard work students do in the classroom."

It was one of Hermione's favourite rants, complaining about the unfair emphasis on athletics over coursework, and it was one that Daphne had heard on many occasions.

"Oh, stop being such a spoilsport," Daphne said, with a playful eyeroll.

The blonde girl stood then, tugging at Hermione until she was in a sitting position. With a quick flick of her wand, Daphne and the wild mane of curls that was Hermione's signature look pulled back and away from her neck. A green ribbon ran around her hairline to tie into a bow atop her head. Hermione knew, even without looking in a mirror, that she must look very silly. 

Still, she couldn't find it in her to refuse when she saw the hopeful smile on Daphne's face. Her friend had tried all year long to pull Hermione out of her shell. Daphne had stuck with her, even after Draco made it clear that Hermione was not in his good graces. She had defended Hermione when Pansy made snide little remarks under her breath, or in the dormitory when none of the boys could hear.

Hermione was entirely indebted to Daphne. If going to a Quidditch match made her friend happy, it was the least Hermione could do. Shrugging on her thin Slytherin jumper, she laughed when Daphne shrieked over Hermione messing up her hair. Once the ribbon was firmly in place once more, Hermione slipped her school skirt on and went to find her shoes.

Daphne linked her arm through Hermione's, and off they went, toward the Quidditch pitch where the thunderous roars of the student body could already be heard.

"Are you looking forward to the summer?" 

Daphne turned towards her, her blue eyes sparkling. She was so pretty Hermione might resent her if it weren't how sweet and good Daphne was.

"That depends. Will you still try to come to see me?"

"Of course, I will!" Daphne said. "I've already written to Mother about it."

"Do you think she'll let you visit at the start of the break? Aunt Narcissa told me she would take us shopping in Muggle Paris."

"No! Really?" Daphne was giddy with excitement at the prospect.

"Yes, she did, in her last letter a week ago," Hermione said, the corners of her mouth pulling into a small smile. "It was something my mother always promised we would do, once I was _of age_."

"Hermione—"

"Please, don't. I didn't bring it up to dampen the mood; I only meant that we'll definitely be going."

"Well, then, I'll do my best to convince Mother to allow me to visit!"

Hermione smiled brightly. "Wonderful! It'll be devastating if I don't see you at some point this summer, but I think the Paris trip will be the most fun. I'm just hoping we don't have to bring either of the boys."

"Oh, Merlin. Can you imagine how much they would complain? Blaise is the only one who would be a good sport about it, but he said he's off to Italy as soon as the term is done."

"Poor thing. He'll be so isolated out there."

"I'm sure he'll manage just fine," Daphne said with a laugh. "You know how Blaise is. He could befriend _anyone_ , anywhere."

The two girls fell into a peaceful silence as they grew closer to the pitch. When they arrived, they quickly scanned the stands, searching for the rest of their friends.

"Does it bother you?" 

Daphne's voice was so low that Hermione almost didn't hear it, but the moment the question registered, she knew. She followed Daphne's gaze to find Draco, holding court with Pansy glued to his side. Hermione schooled her features and levelled her tone before turning back to her friend.

"Why would it bother me?"

"Well, it's just that..."

Suddenly her friend dropped her gaze to the ground as her cheeks reddened. Hermione watched her for a moment before gently bumping her shoulder against Daphne.

"Just spit it out, Daph. Why would his choice in friends bother me?"

"Because you're intended for one another!" Daphne's eyes growing wide as soon as the words spilt from her lips.

"Oh, that?" Hermione chuckled. "No, I'm not bothered by it because of that."

"How could you not be?"

"It wasn't an official betrothal agreement," Hermione said.

"It was enough so that Draco's father told my father that he was unavailable for an arrangement with our family."

"Do you want to be betrothed to him?" Hermione quirked a brow and waited for her friend to respond.

"No, not at all. I just feel like he's not acting in an honourable manner, is all. I bet if you told his mother, she would kill him."

"Oh, it hardly matters that much, Daph. We're only twelve, after all! I have much more important things to consider than who I'm going to marry one day."

"You're right, but we both know that Pansy is already thinking about whether she'll be the future Mrs Malfoy or not."

"Well, if she wants the title, she can have it," Hermione said with a shrug.

"You don't mean that..."

"Yes, I really do. It's a bit silly though that we're talking about this at all! But, at the end of the day, both Draco and Pansy should get to choose if they want to be together. I think my father would let me find my own match, too, if I asked."

The truth was that Hermione had barely heard from her father at all through the year. He wrote to inquire after her grades early in the year, but it felt formal and perfunctory. When he sent another owl later in the term to inform her that she and Theo would spend the winter holiday at Malfoy Manor, Hermione was hardly surprised.

Ever since she and Theo started school, her father spent most of his time abroad. She wasn't even really sure what he was doing, but she knew it wasn't her place to ask. Helene might have been indulgent towards Hermione's curious nature, and Theodore was, too, but only to a certain extent.

There were still aspects of her father's character that were true to the old-fashioned, pureblood customs. However, since she knew he had found love for himself in marriage, Hermione was sure that he would allow the same for her.

Yet, she still held firm to the belief that the topic was a strange one to consider and discuss at their age.

Turning her thoughts away from such adult topics as betrothals and marriage, Hermione began climbing the steps to where Theo and Blaise sat. Before sinking on to the bench, she hazarded one last glance toward Draco, only to find grey eyes looking back at her.


	4. Second Year

For all the distance that had grown between them during their first year, Draco found that summer easily bridged the gap. It was a little strained, at the start of the break, but soon it felt as though the friendship had never faltered. After his mother, Hermione, and Daphne returned from Paris, Draco nearly fainted at seeing the Muggle fashions his mother allowed Hermione to buy.

Although no one would never have expected Narcissa to be so indulgent, Draco couldn't exactly complain about the form-fitting, skin-baring clothes that the girls brought back. It became difficult not to spend all his time staring at Hermione.

While the fun times they shared over the break helped bridge the gap in their friendship, all the progress seemed to dissipate soon after they boarded d the Hogwarts Express and barreling towards school.

Hermione and Theo had joined the rest of them to crowd into one of the tiny compartments, and Draco felt an odd fluttering in his chest when Hermione squeezed in beside him.

She smiled at him, that dazzling smile that she only bore when she was delighted. It was the one that reminded him of long summer days in the field surrounding the Manor, sneaking into the kitchens for a late-night snack, and listening intently as his mother pointed out the various constellations. Draco would never admit it aloud, but he loved that smile.

It made him feel like nothing in the world could stop him.

Of course, everything was ruined the moment Harry and Ron decided to pop their no-good, annoying heads into the Slytherin compartment. When Draco saw a tiny redhead girl following the pair like a little lost puppy, he simply couldn't resist the opportunity for a scathing jab.

A swell of pride rose in his chest at hearing the snickers of his classmates. Vincent, Gregory, and Pansy were laughing the loudest, of course. Still, even Blaise and Daphne seemed to find his comment funny. That's how he knew it had been not only mean-spirited but also clever.

Yet, when he looked for approval from the one person whose opinion he actually cared about, Draco was met with a disappointed stare. Hermione didn't outrightly _say_ anything in admonishment of his behaviour, but he _knew_ that look. He had seen that look on countless occasions, usually when he spoke rudely to a house-elf, or made Theo upset. Over time he had gotten better at appeasing her, but there was something about Harry and Ron that got under his skin. 

Just like that, the progress he and Hermione made over the break towards repairing their friendship was gone.

Hermione turned her body away from his, pulling out one of their course books and starting up a conversation with Daphne and Blaise. In response, Draco felt his ire grow. Or, maybe it was a displacement of the irritation sparked by his exchange with the two most annoying students in the school and their new sidekick.

"Already talking about books, Granger?" Draco said, his lazy drawl interrupting her mid-sentence.

"How many times have I told you," she responded through gritted teeth, "it's _Nott_."

He shrugged and smirked at her. "Granger suits you better."

It was a defiant provocation. Draco knew, as did she. For all her cunning and intelligence, Draco knew Hermione could never back down from a challenge.

Squaring towards him, she rolled her eyes with an annoyed huff. "You're insufferable, Draco." 

The emphasis was on his given name, but he ignored it. While he insisted that everyone else call him 'Malfoy,' he actually didn't care what she called him, so long as she was speaking to him. Besides, there were other, better ways to get back at her.

"And you're a swot."

His eyes were locked on her, drinking in the fury that was rolling off her in waves. It highlighted the gold flecks in her brown eyes and her thick curls crackled as a storm of magic brewed in the petite witch. This was his favourite version of Hermione, the one who was unafraid to speak her mind and put him in his place. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was gone. Instead, Hermione looked at him with a smug, mischievous smirk.

"That's true," she said, and his mouth almost fell open.

The rest of their group was watching the exchange intently as if it were a Quidditch match and the teams were evenly stacked. The spirited glint in her eye grew as she prepared for her final play, and Draco was so caught off guard that he didn't see it coming.

"I _am_ a swot," Hermione continued, agreeing with his earlier insult as if it were a mere appraisal. "Yet, this _swot_ was at the top of our class last year." 

Her grin widened, and Draco realised, too late, that he had messed with the wrong snake. She might ignore his subtle jabs in the hallways of Hogwarts, but here, she wouldn't hold back. This group of peers would be with them throughout their lives, and Hermione was intent on a show of strength.

She turned away from Draco, then angling towards the rest of them. "Uncle Lucius and Auntie Narcissa were so impressed when I told them over summer, weren't they, Theo?"

Her brother nodded in confirmation and Draco glared daggers at him.

"In fact, if I remember correctly..." She tapped her chin as if truly struggling to recall the information, "I believe Uncle Lucius said he wished you were more studious, like me, _Draco_." 

Hermione glanced at Draco with an air of nonchalance, but he knew every single word from her was carefully calculated. There was no option other than to concede, for now. If he spoke up, he would likely only dig himself into a deeper grave.

It was true that his father had said something of the sort. While Draco was many things, he wasn't stupid enough to dispute a direct fact, especially not one that could be corroborated by Theo.

Correctly taking his silence as a concession, Hermione stood up. Pansy seemed ready to interject, to defend Draco. However, at receiving a withering glare from Hermione, the other girl froze, her mouth gaping.

"So, yes. I am absolutely a swot," Hermione said, her eyes flickering back to appraise Draco. "But that's what will set me apart. We're _all_ special because of our surnames and our families." 

She glanced at the others, all looking at her with mixed awe, jealousy, and approval. "I, for one, don't expect to rely on my name alone to succeed. If anything, my accomplishments will only further elevate the Nott name. When I told Uncle Lucius as much, he agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly." 

Hermione levelled a final, warning look at Draco before leaving the compartment. He didn't see her for the remainder of the trip.

Her words haunted every step he took.

They made him meaner, more liable to lash out, regardless of the target. The other Houses' First Years soon learned to fear him, avoiding Draco and his crew in the hallways. Harry and Ron were sorer than ever, but they couldn't do anything about it.

While he may have turned into somewhat of a bully, Draco was smart enough not to get caught.

When he made the Slytherin Quidditch team, the joy he might have felt was overshadowed by the echo of her evaluation.

Was he only selected because he was a Malfoy?

Even his father's congratulations felt hollow.

Was Lucius proud, or did he resent his son focusing on sports instead of academics?

A seed of bitterness bloomed in Draco's chest and only grew every instance that Hermione surpassed him.

* * *

Angrily brushing her riotous curls out of her face, Hermione bit back a scream. She slaved over the Hair-Raising Potion that Professor Snape assigned for the entirety of the period, only for him to praise Draco instead.

His potion had been adequate at best, and that wasn't to say Hermione was trying to put Draco down. It just seemed that no matter how hard she tried, Snape always gave Draco preferential treatment. 

How absolutely infuriating.

She was still at the top of Potions, and all her other classes, but it wouldn't hurt for the greasy-haired older man to _acknowledge_ her efforts from time to time. It was hard to believe that he was the same age as Draco's parents. Even her father, who was several years older than Lucius and Narcissa, looked better than Snape.

Struggling to swallow the resentment towards their Potions professor, Hermione focused instead on how it could be much worse. For one, she could be a Gryffindor. Snape seemed to tolerate her well enough because of her House affiliation, whereas the Gryffindor students in their class received the brunt of his ire.

Hermione thought Neville might be able to succeed in the class if it weren't for his fear of their professor. After all, he excelled in Herbology, or so Hermione had heard. She thought there needed to be more inter-house friendships, but as it stood, everyone seemed to keep to themselves and their own.

Sadly, Neville wasn't even the student who got the most grief from Snape. The man seemed to have a never-ending well of hatred for Harry, though Hermione didn't understand the cause of it. She tried to study the interactions between the two, to find the source of the grudge, but she had yet to make any progress. Harry wasn't the best at Potions, but he wasn't the worst in the class either. 

That title was hard to grab when Vincent and Gregory were around.

Bless their hearts, Hermione knew they would try if someone just helped them. Maybe she would start a study group, but alas, her thoughts digressed.

There was no perceivable reason for Snape to hate Harry the way he did. He seemed intent on torturing the boy. How was that allowed?

Hogwarts was a school for young witches and wizards. It was unrealistic to expect the professors to like every single student that crossed over the threshold. Still, it seemed a bit ridiculous to Hermione that no one bothered reprimanding Snape for the unjust treatment towards the Gryffindors.

After all, Professor McGonagall was the Head of another House, but she seemed to like Hermione just fine. Well, maybe that was an understatement. The older witch's treatment of her at times suggested that Hermione was one of _her_ favourites. Yet, the professor was never unfair to students that she liked less.

Maybe that was why it felt even more rewarding when she praised Hermione's work ethic and her commitment to the challenging art of Transfiguration on many occasions. McGonagall even offered to discuss mastery programs and apprenticeships with Hermione, should she ever be interested in furthering her education on the topic.

Hermione was grateful, of course, but she doubted she would pursue such a route. She wanted to obtain more training after Hogwarts, of that she was sure. It was something she and her mother had talked about often. However, despite Helene's encouragement on the matter, it was also made clear that Hermione should seek secondary education in a topic that would benefit her future standing in society.

That wasn't to say she was expected to learn more about arbitrary topics, like flower arrangements, in order to make her a better society hostess. Hermione never felt any pressure from either of her parents to settle for the role of pureblood wife. She was far too smart for that.

Still, certain professions might be studied to enhance her future, and others would simply be for her own edification. Hermione would need to pursue one that fell into the first category if she were to continue the legacy of her family.

Furthermore, though she still didn't know the details, she was aware of the fact that her father had served under Voldemort during the wizarding war. In the end, she gathered that he must have done something for the Ministry or the Order to avoid a sentence in Azkaban, but there were still whispers of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord that haunted her steps.

As such, not only were she and Theo tasked with the job of upholding the Nott legacy, she also assumed there was work needed to repair it further. That was what Narcissa informed Hermione her father was doing, as he travelled abroad.

Now, without the pleasant distraction of wife and children, her father elected to spend his time rebuilding, restructuring, and revitalising their family assets and the company that Theo would one day inherit.

Hermione and Theo still heard from him, though at irregular intervals. It was the best she could hope for from her father. She knew he was still coping with the loss of his wife.

The grief of missing her mother still stung whenever Hermione dwelled on Helene for too long. However, rather than a sharp, stabbing, ever-present anguish, it settled into a duller sort of ache.

She hadn't said it to Draco, that day on the train at the start of the year, but studying was a distraction from mourning that she readily accepted. It was simpler to throw herself into coursework and dedicate herself to the goals she and her mother dreamed about, rather than remain stuck in sadness and longing. 

She couldn't let herself be that vulnerable, though.

While she enjoyed the time they spent together during the summer, it was clear that the Draco she was friends with at Malfoy Manor was different than the Draco who walked the halls of Hogwarts. Being around the larger group of Slytherins brought out the worst qualities in him, and Hermione preferred to keep her distance.

It pained her, of course, that their friendship suffered since the start of school. She had high hopes that she and Draco could study and learn together. After all, he was _almost_ as smart as she was. Instead, he spent his time harassing other students and generally being a little prick.

Although she wanted to hang on to any lingering vestiges of the boy she grew up with, Hermione refused to associate herself with the boy Draco had become. He left her alone since the train incident, aside from his continued insistence on calling her Granger, and it was for the best.

However, her resolve weakened any time he showed even a shadow of his former self, like the time when an older Gryffindor was picking on Hermione and Draco rushed to her defence.

Still, Hermione wasn't afraid to put him in his place if need be, but she preferred it when they just ignored each other. Now though, even that might not be possible. It felt like Snape was intent on pitting them against one another, at least after today's class.

He _should_ have praised Hermione's potion, after all. Instead, Draco received a pat on the back. The whole thing reeked of favouritism and the more Hermione thought on it, the more her blood boiled.

Maybe she would write to Narcissa. It was a gamble, considering Snape was Draco's godfather. That meant he and the elder Malfoys must be close. Still, it wasn't as if Hermione had any other adults in whom she could confide.

The other professors wouldn't care. The headmaster was useless.

With her mother dead and her father absent, Narcissa was her only option. It would be fine. Her aunt loved her and would listen to Hermione's concerns.

Hermione turned course, intent on returning to her dormitory and writing a letter. Hopefully, that would solve this pesky little problem.

* * *

Draco glowered at his supposed _friends_ as they huddled around Hermione in the library. The fact that he had to go looking for Vincent and Gregory only served to fuel his ire. They were supposed to be his shadows, ready to do his bidding at the drop of a wand.

Yet, here they were, sitting at one of the larger round tables alongside Blaise, Daphne, Theo, and even Millie! When had she stopped spending time with Pansy in favour of the others? It was absolutely ridiculous.

The worst part was that Draco wasn't able to say anything about it. 

For starters, he couldn't speak out against Hermione. Even though his mother understood that their friendship was not as close as it once was, Narcissa would not stand for such blatant disrespect of her favourite young witch. It wouldn't do well to show any dissent amongst the Slytherin ranks. There was already enough dislike directed at Slytherins by the rest of the school; they had to stick together.

Besides, if the other Houses caught wind of any dispute amongst the Slytherins, that would only make them more vulnerable. Lastly, Hermione was actually helping his dolt friends. Both of them had begun to improve in their coursework.

While Draco was entitled and selfish to the core, he didn't think he could begrudge either Vincent or Gregory for trying to get better marks.

Still, it didn't mean he had to like it. Now his only steady companion was Pansy, and that was hardly desirable. Draco knew on some level that the black-haired girl was interested in his name and vaults, and he found it rather off-putting.

Draco hated that he had to bother with it at all. He and Hermione were meant to be betrothed, once his sixteenth birthday passed. So the fact that Pansy seemed to think she had any chance at all was confounding. Maybe he responded to her attention, from time to time. Yet, Draco also made it clear on many, _many_ occasions that he was her friend and nothing more. Though he supposed she wouldn't have been placed in Slytherin if she weren't cunning and determined.

In another universe, he might have seen those traits as beguiling. Maybe when he was older, he would. He knew Pansy would make a fine pureblood wife one day. Despite his age, the traits desirable in a partner were subtly drilled into him. It was one of the fundamental teachings that a father passed on to his son. Still, Draco didn't want her to be _his_ wife.

He watched from behind a particularly tall shelf as Blaise said something to Hermione, causing her to laugh. That smarmy, no-good charmer flashed her a brilliant smile, and Draco felt his stomach turn as Hermione returned the grin. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, Draco nearly saw red. It wasn't as if he thought of Hermione in the romantic sense, either, but she was supposed to be Draco’s friend.

That should have been them, sitting side-by-side, laughing and making jokes with one another. Where had it all gone so sideways? How had their friendship and the plan for their Hogwarts years turned sour? He tried and tried and _tried_ to get her attention, but all his attempts fell flat. 

First, there was the Granger thing. It did make sense, logically, for one of them to use that surname. Obviously calling both Hermione and Theo by Nott would only get confusing. Still, he might have been persuaded from calling her by Granger, if she hadn't been so put out by it. When he started the trend, it was a sure way to get her attention. Every time he said it, she would get huffy and correct him. Eventually, her reactions waned, but by that time, it felt so natural that he just stuck with it. Now, he wasn't sure that he would ever refer to her by any other name.

After the surname lost its potency, he began to make jabs about her studious ways. That was a flop from the start. Any other person might have been put out by it, but Hermione seemed to take pride in being labelled a swot.

All that left Draco was picking on other kids. He noticed that Hermione seemed to have a propensity for defending the weak and downtrodden. It was absurd, but the fact remained. If Draco teased and taunted others in Hermione's presence, she was sure to come to their aid.

He knew it was ridiculous, that he practically became no more than a bully, but even being lectured by her was better than being ignored. If he was calculated enough, he might even land a well-timed remark during said lecture and turn the entire thing into a row.

Whatever it said about him, Draco loved those moments. There were only a few times he felt as alive as he did when he argued with Hermione. He was so lost in his memories of their last quarrel that he didn't hear her approach.

"Draco?" Hermione said, suddenly behind him.

It took every ounce of self-control not to jump.

"Granger." He nodded curtly, refusing to make eye contact.

"It's– Oh, nevermind. What are you doing here? You never come to the library, unless you're up to something. You aren't, are you?" 

Her brown eyes narrowed as she scanned his face, searching for any signs of mischief.

"No. I was just looking for something." He coughed. "A book."

Silently berating himself for the lack of a better excuse, he grabbed the first book his eyes on which his eyes landed. In his distracted state, Draco didn't have time to read the title before it was held securely against his chest, like a shield. Judging by her quizzical expression, though, maybe he should have paused before making his selection.

" _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit..._ Was that really what you came for?" 

Hermione was biting back a grin, her brow raised as she waited for him to fess up, or commit further to the charade. His grey eyes flashed at the apparent provocation.

"Of course, it was. I'm considering taking it up, as a hobby."

"Well, in that case, good luck!" She unsuccessfully attempted to choke down a laugh before continuing, "You know, you're welcome to join our study group if you're interested. You might even help me drill some information into Vincent and Greg's heads."

This was it. Hermione was offering an olive branch. This was the moment where he could begin to rebuild their friendship. She had been such an essential part of his life for the first eleven years. There was no reason why they couldn't find their way back to each other.

"I'd rather have detention with that giant knucklehead," Draco said before he could stop himself. He didn't intend for it to happen, but he knew his mouth was curled into a taunting sneer.

_Darn it all._

That was the reason why they had become casual acquaintances. Draco and his inability to stay quiet readily sabotaged the remaining vestiges of their friendship time and time again.

"I see," Hermione said. Her voice was icy, any mirth in her eyes long gone. "In that case, I'll see you around."

Draco turned, cursing under his breath, and strode from the library.

* * *

Hermione glanced around the small clearing, looking for her assigned partner. When she spotted him, she flashed her best friendly smile and strolled towards where he stood.

"Hi, Harry," she said.

"Er, hi, Granger."

It was a struggle, but she managed _not_ to roll her eyes. The fact that Draco managed to get surnames to catch on throughout their year and also succeeded in ensuring others called her by one of her middle names was beyond irritating.

"I prefer Hermione."

"Oh. Okay. Well, Hermione it is then."

Harry smiled at her crookedly, and any building annoyance immediately dissipated.

"Thank you," she said, returning his grin.

"I'm sorry you got stuck with me for this project."

"Why would you say that?"

"It looks like your Slytherin pals aren't too happy about our association."

He lifted his chin ever so slightly in the direction from which she had come. Hermione shifted, so she was standing alongside him, and this time, she didn't bother suppressing an exasperated eye roll. Draco was glaring at the two of them, his arms crossed and his face twisted into a petulant scowl.

"Well, it's not as if we were able to choose our partners," Hermione said. When she saw Harry's face fall, she quickly continued, "But, I am happy we were paired! I've thought for a while now that inter-house friendships would benefit us all."

"I agree!" Harry said, his smile returning.

"Besides, I almost feel as though I should know you better. After all, my Aunt Narcissa is Sirius' cousin."

A look of confusion crossed his face. "Narcissa is your aunt?"

"Not by blood, but I've known her for as long as I can remember. She's mentioned Sirius before, and Andromeda. Maybe you could visit this summer!"

"Visit where?"

"Malfoy Manor. It's where Theo and I have spent the holidays since..."

Harry seemed to pick up on her reluctance intuitively.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said.

"It's gotten better, but it's still not a topic I like to discuss often."

He nodded his head in understanding. 

"I get it. I mean, I sort of get it. It's always different, you know? But, if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here to listen."

Harry finished with an awkward pat to her arm, looking away courteously as Hermione turned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Most times, she could at least allude to her mother being gone without breaking into tears, but there were other instances in which the mere thought of her hurt.

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it."

"Do you think Draco would mind me visiting his family home?"

Hermione was grateful for the change in topic. "He probably will put up a bit of a fuss for appearance sake, but no, I don't think he will. He's not as bad as he makes himself out to be during the school year."

"I don't know. I get the sense that he doesn't like me very much," Harry said. He glanced nervously toward where Draco stood, still glowering at the pair of them.

"He can be a prat. Truly, don't worry about him. It'll be up to Aunt Narcissa, anyway. I think she might like reconnecting with her cousin."

"If you say so. You seem to have a better read on things than I do."

Hermione shrugged. That was her job. It was up to her to be able to read a room and figure out what others were thinking, feeling, and planning to do. That was how a pureblood witch succeeded in a rather patriarchal society. At least, that's what her mother and Narcissa had told her. It wasn't fair that she would have to work twice as hard as her male counterparts, but it was a fact of reality.

"I would like it," Harry said.

Hermione turned to look at him. "What's that?"

"Being friends, like you said. Maybe beyond this assignment?"

"Yes, friends," Hermione agreed. "Should we get started on figuring out a timeline? If the project is due—"

Her sentence died off as a loud, screeching laughter reverberated around them. Looking towards the cause of the commotion, Hermione saw an excited Pansy, as she expected.

What Hermione didn't foresee was Draco, with his arm slung around the other girl's shoulder and a charming grin on his face, as he spoke softly to her. He must have said something _wildly_ funny if Pansy's reaction was any indication.

Hermione continued watching the two, her eyes scanning the familiar position. If she didn't know any better, Draco and Pansy were almost acting like they were boyfriend and girlfriend, the way some of the older students comported themselves.

It was absurd, of course, since pureblood courting was a precise process with many customs to observe. The most fundamental rule was that a couple wouldn't _act_ like a couple until the parents had signed the agreement. Once that happened, any public displays of affection were superfluous. Still, for pairs who shared deeper feelings beyond the arrangement, it wasn't unheard of to be more overt in their relationship.

A tightness grew in her chest as she watched Draco smiling at Pansy. He rarely gifted anyone with a genuine smile. Most of the time, he smirked or sneered. Even now, his face wasn't split into a full smile, but the grin he turned towards the other girl was one Hermione hadn't seen in ages.

Her conversation with Daphne from the previous year flashed through her mind. She and Draco, for all intents and purposes, were destined for one another. As far as Hermione was aware, neither of their fathers had backed out of the agreement. However, there were still a few more years before the contract was made binding, so she supposed it could happen.

Up until that point, his friendship with Pansy seemed innocent enough. Of course, Hermione knew that Pansy was jealous of her. She hated Hermione on principle alone, for the fact that Hermione was unofficially betrothed to the most desirable heir in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. 

As if it was Hermione's fault that her father and Lucius were close enough friends to decide such a thing before the children were even born. It was ridiculous, and yet it was something that she'd taken for granted her entire life.

It was merely more than a fact, like how she was a witch. She wasn't disappointed in Draco's actions, not because of what they meant for her. She was just bothered that now her mental schemas would have to adjust to this new information.

Draco turned his attention away from Pansy momentarily, his grey eyes scanning the crowd. When his gaze landed on Hermione, she thought she saw a glint of a challenge in them. Before she could read further into it, though, she turned heel and left, dragging Harry along with her. He stumbled but regained his footing.

"Let's finish this conversation in the library if that's okay with you."

"Y-yeah, of course, it is!" Harry said, now trotting by her side. 

Hermione focused her attention on each footstep forward, away from the rest of the class. It was fine. Nothing was formalised, anyway.

If Draco wanted Pansy and Pansy wanted him, they should be together, just like Hermione had told Daphne before. She would simply need to get used to the idea that she and Draco weren't destined for one another.

Reminding herself of these facts did nothing to slow her racing heart, but Hermione was sure that was just due to the speedy pace at which she distanced herself from him.


	5. Third Year

Draco sat at a large table in the corner of the Three Broomsticks as his companions excitedly discussed their first trip to Hogsmeade with several older Slytherin students. It wasn't all that exciting. The little wizarding community had less to offer than some of the others throughout the country, but Draco couldn't be bothered to interject.

Typically, he might have used the opportunity to brag about all the different places his parents had taken him. Although as a whole the group of purebloods he kept company with were all wealthy, the Malfoy vaults easily exceeded their vaults. He should have said something, to remind them that he was superior even among a group of elite wizards and witches. He didn't, though. 

Draco was too distracted.

He nodded lazily as Pansy prattled on in his ear about something or another. All he heard were the words, 'Tea Shop,' but he was sure it was a matter that could be sorted out later. He made the appropriate biting remarks when Vincent and Gregory sifted through their substantial haul from Honeydukes. Those two buffoons hardly needed more sugary treats, and Draco would make sure they knew his feelings on the matter.

To the passerby, he appeared like a prince holding court. In truth, nearly the entirety of his attention was directed at a small booth across the pub. He sipped on his Butterbeer slowly as his gaze discreetly settled on the occupants. There would be no reason for anyone to suspect that he was intently studying the group huddled in the booth. Hermione and Theo sat with Harry, _of all people_ , squeezed in between them. Blaise, Daphne, and Millie were on the other bench, and a very uncomfortable Ron sat at the end of the table.

The scene was enough to make Draco's blood boil.

It was bad enough that Hermione and his mother insisted on Harry and Sirius visiting over the summer. Draco made himself scarce as soon as he heard the news, preferring to take his broom out on the grounds and suffer the consequences of his mother's ire later. He knew she would come up for some excuse or another for his absence, and the verbal lashing he would receive was worth it if it meant he didn't need to play nice with Harry. Draco couldn't stand the thought of engaging in even the most minimal of social niceties with him.

The fact that Hermione had become such good friends with Harry over the course of their class project last year was still such an absurd notion. Draco noticed her initial reaction when he pretended he and Pansy were close, in retaliation. However, over time, even his interactions with Pansy lost their effect on Hermione. Where she used to turn a furious gaze whenever there was any contact between Draco and Pansy, now it was like she didn't even notice.

It was beyond frustrating.

How could she become so indifferent to seeing another girl all over him, when he had to suffer the sight of her and Harry? Every time Hermione smiled at the other boy, Draco thought his heart might explode out of his chest. It wasn't because he was jealous. Sure, he missed her smiles and how freely she gave them in his presence. Of course, he also hated that other boys in her life were seemingly more important than him. Still, it wasn't envy or possessiveness that caused his stomach to twist into painful knots. 

Instead, Draco could hardly stand the idea that one of his closest, _oldest_ friends had now befriended his worst enemy.

Shouldn't Hermione feel the same about his friendship with Pansy, considering Pansy bullied her throughout their childhood? Yet, Hermione was able to move on from the slight, after hardly any time at all. Maybe it was because she had her _precious_ Harry to distract her. Or, perhaps it was because she never really felt as strongly about her friendship with Draco. Draining the rest of his mug, he stood and silently gestured to the rest of the table that it was time to leave.

If Hermione and her friends just so happened to be leaving at the same time, it was merely a coincidence. Draco continued brooding, even as he walked back with his friends towards the castle.

With the start of the new school year, Hermione had branched out further, forming new relationships. Even she and Ron tolerated each other now, despite several rows that echoed through the halls when she and Harry first became friends. If anyone asked Draco, he wondered whether Ron was interested in being more than just friends with Hermione. He saw the way Ron watched Hermione when the redhead thought no one was paying attention. While he didn't necessarily think she would fall for someone as stupid as Ron, stranger things had happened.

Draco pushed those thoughts away forcefully. There was no point in thinking about who she might date or marry. Relationships and marriage were of little importance. Besides, their fathers were still in agreement on the union of their Houses, as far as Draco knew. Dwelling on Ron's odd fascination with Hermione would only serve to further fuel Draco's anger. At the moment, he needed to focus on the problem.

Beyond her tenuous acquaintance with Ron, Draco also noticed that Hermione befriended Neville. The quiet boy had even begun joining her library study groups, and Draco often saw them walking the halls together. It was ridiculous that she would feel the need to leave Slytherin House in search of more friends, but Hermione was a strange girl.

Half the time, Draco wasn't even sure what she was thinking, and he knew her better than most. At least, he used to. He wasn't so sure, anymore. While Hermione never was the jealous sort, he knew she valued the traditions that they were taught from an early age. 

Any other pureblood girl would have torn into him for the way he had been acting around Pansy. While Hermione might not comport herself precisely the same way as many of the other girls that Draco knew, she respected the customs that their families observed. Thus, her _intended_ appearing so friendly with another girl _should_ have gotten a rise out of Hermione. That was what Draco had been banking on. He just wanted to get her attention, which was the first step in his plan to repair their friendship. 

Unfortunately, Hermione remained silent on the issue. There was no way she could be that dense, which meant she just wasn't bothered by it.

Draco remained insistent to Pansy they were still just friends, but he wasn't stupid. He was well aware of how it looked, even without Theo and Daphne glaring at him anytime he slung his arm around Pansy's shoulders. 

So, why didn't Hermione care?

Looking up, his eyes immediately landed on her head of unruly brown curls. Sometimes it felt as if his eyes and body were determined to orient themselves to her, whenever she was in his vicinity.

He hoped she might turn her attention away from the book in her hands, just for a moment, and glance his way. That wasn't likely, though.

Her nose was buried in a large book when he won the first match of the season for their House, by catching the Snitch in record time. Even when he said something especially funny, that caused the entire Slytherin table to laugh, she merely turned the page of whatever academic text she was reading.

The only time Hermione ever looked his way these days was when Draco was tormenting Harry.

* * *

Hermione stepped through the door of the Common Room to be met with a bit of a commotion. Before she could even assess what had happened, she had little doubt that Draco was at the centre of it. Sure enough, as she entered further into the Slytherin lounge, her suspicions were confirmed.

Draco sat on one of the plush, velvet couches, an entire court of younger students around him. Pansy was fretting over his arm as she knelt on the seat beside him, while Gregory and Vincent stood behind him like sentries. The scene was ridiculous.

Her eyes narrowed as she listened to him while he regaled the group with the vicious attack by a wild beast.

"That wasn't what happened," she said, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Every head turned towards her. Hermione stood taller, crossing her arms as she locked eyes with Draco. She had been there. She knew what occurred and Draco's role in the entire matter. Her glare was a silent challenge, but it seemed he wasn't ready to back down. He met her gaze with an icy stare of his own, willing her to denounce him publicly.

Was this the final test to their friendship? 

Hermione knew things were strained between them whenever they left the happy bubble of the Manor and returned to Hogwarts. Still, thus far neither of them spoke out against the other in such a candid fashion. They were in front of an audience, which meant the stakes were high.

A battle of wills ensued as the magic sparked around her. Maybe she wouldn't expose or criticise him with so many witnesses, but she was in the right, which meant she wouldn't yield either.

Several minutes passed as a heavy tension settled into the room, threatening to suffocate all of its inhabitants. No one moved. It seemed like no one even breathed. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the mantle.

"It's exactly what happened," Pansy said.

Hermione turned her attention toward the other girl. Pansy was scowling at her defiantly as if to say, _'How dare Hermione to disagree with the Slytherin Prince?'_

Too bad for Pansy. While Draco may have been the apparent heir to the leadership of their House, Hermione would not tolerate such a blatant twisting of the events that occurred.

"I can speak for myself, Pans," Draco said before Hermione could respond. "But, she's right, Granger. It's _exactly_ what happened." 

He turned to smirk at her, and Hermione felt her blood boil. So Pansy got a nickname, but Draco refused to refer to Hermione by her proper surname? The subtle difference was enough to make Hermione want to hurl. She knew he did it on purpose, to get further under her skin, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen the sting. She could have smacked the look right off of his face, and she would have, too, if she didn't know how much their fighting upset her aunt.

"Is that so? Because I was there, Draco, and I think you're leaving out key components." 

Her brow quirked as she crossed her arms, embodying every ounce of Narcissa Malfoy she could muster. While her mother had been a force to be reckoned with in her own right, no one commanded a room the way Narcissa did. Satisfaction coursed through her as she saw the students closest to her shrink back. Draco, however, was unaffected.

"A difference of opinions," Draco said. His tone was diplomatic and had an unaffected air to it, but the gleam in his eyes was downright devilish. 

He was playing the game, putting on the show for the rest of the students. It was all to trigger her temper. As a finishing touch, he shrugged and waved his hand as if to dismiss her. At that point, he was lucky she didn't break his fingers. 

In the time it took her to take several deep, calming breaths, he continued.

"As I was saying, the stupid oaf has no business teaching that class and the animal is savage and dangerous. I'm going to write to my father about this. He's the chairman of the school governors, as you all know. He'll see to it that the giant is thrown out and the creature is put down—"

"It was _not_ merely a difference of opinions," Hermione said. 

She spoke softly, an effort to restrain her anger. Still, as her curls crackled with energy, she knew that her wrath was evident.

“If you have something to say, then say it.”

“No. Not like this.”

Draco stared at her with what may have _looked_ like confusion to anyone else watching, but she knew better. The defiance was written all over his sharp featurees. He was pushing her, testing to see how far she would go. Hermione turned to the rest of the students.

“Out, now.”

As if they’d been shocked, the room cleared and left only Draco, Hermione, and his ever-present shadows.

“You three also,” she said to Vincent, Gregory, and Pansy.

The boys left without little need for further encouragement but Pansy nearly frowned at her. Hermione glowered, refusing to allow Pansy to intimidate, but it wasn’t until Draco gave Pansy a shove that the other girl followed suit.

“What do you want, Granger?” Draco exhaled a heavy sigh as if she was nothing more than a huge inconvenience.

“Don’t do it, Draco. Don’t write to your father. I know you were hurt, but Buckbeak didn’t mean anything. If you had just listened—”

“Still, you continue to side with everyone but me.” His face twisted into a scowl.

“Because what you’re doing isn’t fair! You disrespected him and—”

“That class is stupid and the oaf—”

“His name is Hagrid.”

“—the _oaf_ is a liability.”

“He’s trying his best!”

“I’m only doing the school a favour. Father needs to know about this.”

Hermione felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she realised there was no getting through to him. If he refused to see reason, she would just have to take things into her own hands.

“You’re being dreadful, Draco, and you know it.”

“No, what’s dreadful is a pureblood Slytherin who chooses every person, and _apparently_ a creature, over her friend.”

“Former friend,” Hermione said. 

Before she could register the pain in his eyes, she turned and fled.

She hated that it had come to this, but Hermione felt as if she hardly knew him anymore.

* * *

To say things were tense between Draco and Hermione over the Christmas holidays was an understatement. No amount of cajoling or scheming from his mother could persuade Draco to reveal the last conversation they shared.

He thought Hermione ignoring his wild antics was bad, but being on the receiving end of her continued ire was even worse. He could hardly bear to be in the same room as her. The uncomfortable feeling that persisted in every fibre of his being only seemed to intensify whenever she was around. Fortunately, she seemed to feel the same way.

If he happened to enter the library while she was there, Hermione gathered her belongings and retired to her room. When she walked out further on the grounds in the vicinity of where he rode his broom, he sped away. They seemed to come to an unspoken agreement of which parts of the estate were hers to inhabit, and which were his. The common spaces, however, were more difficult.

Still, whenever she saw him walking in the halls of the manor, she promptly turned and rerouted. She also requested to his mother that she be allowed to stay in a different wing. Up until then, both she and Theo typically slept in rooms near Draco. Now they stayed elsewhere. Tea and mealtimes were unavoidable.

While Narcissa had acquiesced to Hermione moving, his mother would not negotiate on tea and meals being shared among all inhabitants of the manor. Neither were brave enough to ask for a rearrangement of the seating, either. For as long as Draco could remember, his father sat at the head of the table, and his mother sat to his father’s right. Theo sat alongside Narcissa, while Draco and Hermione sat opposite of them both. 

However, despite this effort on his mother’s part to force them together, they managed to survive an entire holiday’s worth of meals without saying more than a few, terse, polite words. When Narcissa tried to engage either of them, she was met with silence. No amount of glares or sighs from the woman could coerce Draco or Hermione into a conversation.

It was honestly a relief to be back at school. Since Hermione was clearly not going to get over her anger anytime soon, Draco preferred to at least have the buffer of the rest of the student body. It felt good, at the start of the term, to be back with friends who actually liked him. He walked the halls without a care in the world. Until, he heard through the rumour mill that the darn Hippogriff had escaped.

His father had informed Draco that he would ensure the animal was executed, but it seemed _someone_ had tipped Hagrid off. Now, the culprit to his greatest disgrace was gone. Draco seethed at the news. He knew exactly who intervened to save the beast, but without any way to prove it, there was nothing he could do.

That didn’t do anything to improve his mood.

When they were in the Great Hall for mealtime, he glared. He would push his food around his plate as he stared at her with the intensity of a thousand suns, but she merely returned the heated look. Any time she raised her hand in class, he scowled. Of course, she was too busy being a swot to notice. As she, Harry, and Theo walked the halls together, Draco glowered. It was as if she were rubbing salt in the wound.

He was following the trio now, with Vincent and Gregory, as they walked the school grounds. Draco wasn’t exactly sure what his purpose was in doing so. Maybe he would overhear them implicating themselves in aiding and abetting a wanted creature. Truly, he would settle for anything that would give him a reason to tear into Harry. Hermione and Theo, despite their traitorous ways, were off-limits for any _real_ lashing. Their little pet Gryffindor was fair game, though.

Draco saw his opening at the mention of Lily.

For all he knew, the others might have been talking about flowers, but he didn’t care. He coughed, announcing his presence, and swaggered up to Harry with an impish grin.

“Crying about your dead mother again, Potter?”

His eyes flickered to Hermione. She was frowning at him. Good. Draco no longer cared if she thought he was a bully. She was the one who embarrassed him, time and time again, in favour of others. For all he cared, she could go rot.

“Leave us alone, Malfoy,” Harry said. 

He crossed his arms and glared at Draco, daring him to push further.

“Why would I?” The _‘make me’_ was left unsaid. “When I have the chance to be regaled once more about her heroism, I’m going to take it.” His smirk widened. “Although, I did hear something to the contrary…” Draco paused for dramatic effect, relishing the way all attention, _her_ attention, was on him. “There’s a rumour going around that she actually tried to trade your life for hers. Of course, one could only expect such blatant lack of caring from a _Mudblood_ —”

Before Draco could continue he felt the cool tip of a wand at his neck. He backed rapidly until he hit the wall of the castle, but she only followed.

“Take that back, Draco,” Hermione said, her voice low. It was a warning of the imminent danger he was in.

He ignored it, and glared at her instead. Of course, once again, she _would_ choose Harry over him.

“That’s an abhorrent word and you know it,” she continued.

“It’s not abhorrent if it’s tr—”

Hermione pressed her wand more firmly into his windpipe, cutting him off.

“You’ve become an absolutely foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

Behind her, Theo was watching the scene intently. “C’mon Hermione, he isn’t worth it.”

She turned heel, ready to leave. Apparently, he wasn’t worth her anger or her time. He wasn’t worth anything to her.

“Bitch,” he muttered, so softly under his breath, he was sure she wouldn’t hear.

Of course, she did. With a force that he would have never attributed to her small frame, she slapped him across the face. The space around them echoes with a thunderous _crack_ as he stumbled at the impact. A range of emotions flashed through his mind – fear at her raw power, outrage at her audacity, shock at the pain radiating from his cheek.

Hermione grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him close so only the two of them could hear her next words.

“Your mother will hear about this.”

Panic like Draco had never known spread through his chest at the threat. How many times had he used that same warning, merely swapping in Lucius for Narcissa? The funny thing was, the people that cowered in fear at the mention of his father knew nothing of the horrors his mother could and _would_ bring about.

He slumped to the ground as Hermione shoved him away, his eyes locked on the grass in front of him. He had gone too far. Draco knew it, even as he was in the process of bringing up dead mothers and Muggleborns, but he didn’t stop himself.

Maybe he should run after her to apologise.

No, that would only make things worse. Hermione very clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

* * *

Despite her many, _many_ efforts to arrange alternative plans for the summer following Third Year, Hermione was unsuccessful. She was hoping for success on that front before she went to Narcissa. The woman loved Hermione like she was her own daughter, but as Hermione would soon be fifteen years old, she felt it only right to try and problem solve on her own.

She had written her father. He was spending time in the United States as part of a plan to expand the family company overseas. She asked whether she might be able to travel with him and begin to learn more about his position. He decidedly informed her that she could not. It would be too much of a challenge to rearrange all of his travel plans to accommodate another person. A load of rubbish. They were magical and rich. There were few barriers that money and influence couldn’t solve.

When she wrote him back to tell him as much, Theodore simply replied that Narcissa would be despondent if she wasn’t able to spend the summer with her favourite young witch. While that was probably _partially_ true, there was no reason that Hermione couldn’t spend a few weeks abroad with Narcissa and then then the rest of her summer with her father. That was her second argument, but of course, it was also shot down.

Theodore made it clear that she would spend the break in its entirety with the Malfoys and that was his final say on the matter. Hermione wondered whether his reticence to see her was because she was starting to look more and more like her mother. She knew this from photos, but Narcissa confirmed it when Hermione last saw the woman for the winter holiday. The final confirmation was evident in the pain that flashed through her father’s eyes at seeing her on Christmas Day.

So, it was settled. At least her first problem was. The resolution wasn’t one she liked, but Hermione knew better than to continue bothering her father on the matter.

Only after it was clear that she would be forced to share the same air as Draco did Hermione write to Narcissa. She kept the details vague while making it clear that Draco used a slur for Muggleborns regarding a war hero and another slur about women directed at Hermione. Sending a Howler was far too gauche for Narcissa’s tastes, but Hermione watched smugly as the post the next day arrived. Draco paled considerably at reading a missive that could only have been sent by Narcissa, and Hermione delighted in the success of that mission.

He glanced up at her, or maybe it was just in her general direction when he finished reading the letter. Hermione looked away. She could still feel the disgust and hatred roiling through her anytime she thought of the exchange and it almost made her wish that she could slap him again. That wouldn’t do, though. She already made her position clear. There was no need for further violence.

Besides, underneath the maelstrom of negative emotions she felt towards him, there was also a sense of confusion. He hadn’t offered an apology for what transpired that day. Yet, when she cried in the Common Room over the stress of final exams, he was the first to offer a handkerchief, albeit silently and sullenly. A box of her favourite sweets addressed to her mysteriously appeared the following day. It was too much to consider, who sent them, or why _he_ was still looking out for her. She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted.

So she focused on the rage and channelled it into her studies, to ensure that she not only beat his score but completely pulverised him. Even Snape seemed to notice her invigorated commitment to classes, as he offered a single, curt nod of approval for her Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. The flush of victory was only further sweetened when the professor looked at Draco’s with a disapproving sneer.

The school year ended that way, with Hermione thriving while Draco licked his wounds. Even Pansy was no longer enough to appease to his ego and Hermione watched as he pushed the other girl further and further away. That was no way to treat someone he hoped to marry one day, but it was hardly Hermione’s problem. If Pansy took up with another one of the Slytherins, then it would only be Draco’s fault. Hermione stopped caring entirely about the ongoings of her former friend once he made it clear he spared no regard for her.

Her aunt begged her to spend the summer at Malfoy Manor as if Hermione had any other choice. Still, she appreciated the fact that Narcissa was willing to humble herself, all for something her son had done. She offered another trip to Paris to visit Hermione’s favorite restaurants, museums, and shops. Narcissa even approved when Hermione and Daphne showed Narcissa the teensy Muggle swimsuits.

Hermione thought that Narcissa might be scandalised, but she was hardly even affected. Maybe Helene had introduced her friend to the more revealing side of Muggle attire? That had to be it. Considering Narcissa even allowed them to wear the swimsuits by the Malfoy pool, Hermione could think of no other explanation.

“They’re staring again,” Daphne said, startling Hermione from her thoughts.

The two of them lay side by side at the edge of the pool, clothed in the delightful two-piece swimsuits. They had lounged by the water for hours, the sun kissing them and warming their bodies from head to toe. Hermione had begun to develop freckles across her shoulders as her skin became a beautiful golden colour.

“Let them,” Hermione responded. She flipped the page of her book. 

Glancing over the edge of the sunglasses that Narcissa insisted were absolutely necessary, she grinned at the sight of Blaise and Draco gawking. Theo and Harry were somewhere in the Manor, steering clear of Draco, but Blaise could always be persuaded to fly brooms.

He was the mediator of their class. The only one who hadn’t chosen sides as the divide between Hermione and Draco became evident. Hermione didn’t resent him for it. She didn’t ask Daphne or Millie to side with her, they just had. Of course, she appreciated the support, but she understood why Blaise intended to play the neutral field.

“Isn’t it a bit creepy?” Daphne giggled.

Several moments had passed and the boys were still gaping. If they didn’t close their mouths soon, they might catch a few flies. Now _that_ was a thought. She closed her book and set it to the side, turning towards Daphne.

“A bit, but let’s talk about something else.”

“What is there to talk about? Classes are out, neither of us like Quidditch…”

“There are other things to talk about other than boys, school, or sports, Daph.” Hermione wrinkled her nose as she thought of other topics they might discuss.

“That’s true. We could talk about fashion! All of these trips to Paris have me thinking I might want to be a designer.”

Hermione perked up at that news. 

“Really? That’s wonderful! You would be so good at it!”

“You really think so?” The hopeful look in Daphne’s eyes said it all.

“Of course, I do! Maybe next year Aunt Narcissa can take us to Milan!”

“Oh, that would be lovely! You’re so lucky to have her.”

“I’m just glad she pushes your mother to allow you to join us,” Hermione said with a smile.

In truth, Hermione didn’t care all that much about fashion. Her primary purpose in the trips to Paris were more to gain exposure to Muggle culture than anything else. She knew Narcissa liked clothing, and Hermione thought it was a good compromise to visit the Muggle city that boasted some of the world’s best fashion. Once they were there, it was easy for Hermione to convince the two other witches to visit museums, galleries, and restaurants outside of the local wizarding community. 

Although Hermione’s interest in fashion was minimal, at best, she did care about her friend. The prospect of exploring a new city and culture didn’t hurt, either.


	6. Fourth Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the readers that have recently left comments on this story, thank you for the bottom of my heart. 💕

Draco sulked as he walked several steps behind Hermione between classes. A second wizard, some boy whose name Draco couldn't be bothered to remember, had just approached her and invited her to the Yule Ball, only for Hermione to decline politely. She told both boys that she already accepted an invitation, but that was impossible.

He knew everyone in their year was excited at the prospect of being able to attend the holiday dance and celebration for the first time. Still, with two months remaining before the dance, it was far too early for Hermione to have secured a date.

Back when they were still speaking to one another, _when they were still friends,_ Draco assumed the two of them would attend together. He had abandoned that notion as the chasm between them only grew with every day that passed. Despite his acceptance of this fact, it wasn't easy to wrap his mind around the idea of her going with someone else.

As they approached their next classroom, Draco sped up and grabbed her arm, pulling her into a nook.

"Let go of me, Malfoy." Her eyes flashed. "Or, I _will_ hex you."

He released his hold on her, instead choosing to angle his body to prevent her from leaving. Hermione could have shoved past him if she really wanted to. However, instead of pushing him aside, she crossed her arms and waited for an explanation for his rash and odd behaviour.

Draco supposed one was in order, considering they hadn't spoken more than a few words in what felt like months.

"You were lying, right? When you told those boys that you have a date?"

A look of confusion flitted across her features before awareness dawned on her. "No. Why would I lie about that? Dean and Neville are both nice—"

"They're _Gryffindors_."

"Oh, Merlin. Really, Malfoy? House rivalries are so petty."

He ignored her reprimand in favour of his inquisition. 

"Who are you going with?"

"Why do you care?"

Draco considered telling her that he _didn't_ care, but it was obvious that he did, or else he wouldn't be pressing her for information.

"I just... Why won’t you tell me? Embarrassed?"

"It's not any of your business," she retorted as she crossed her arms.

"You don't have a date. That's why you won't just say it."

Hermione scowled at him. "Oh, just because you wouldn't want to take me to a ball means no one else would enjoy my company?"

"That's not what I meant, Granger."

"How should I know what you meant? You're an entirely different person now. You hurl awful insults and never apologise! We haven't spoken in forever, and now you're making demands as if we’re _friends_."

He refused to address any of her points. She was right, but Draco would never admit it. It wasn't as if it would fix anything.

"You can't go with anyone else."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, you can't go with anyone else."

She laughed incredulously. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because... No. Never mind. Later, Granger."

Spinning on his heel, he walked briskly to the classroom and busied himself with pulling out parchment and quills. There was no way he would be able to focus on the lecture, but it was better than risking catching her eye when she entered the room.

Draco ended up asking Pansy to attend with him later that day, though he did so in private. It wasn't as if he could invite Daphne or Millie, who had both firmly taken Hermione's side in the falling out. He didn't know any of the girls from the other Houses, which only left him with Pansy as an option.

A modicum of guilt pierced his chest at the excited look on her face when she agreed, but he ignored it. It wasn't as if he gave any indication of interest beyond friendship. If she chose to read more into the invitation that he intended, that was on her.

When the night of the ball arrived, Draco almost wanted to pretend he was ill and spend the night in the dormitory. He didn't want to dance Pansy. He also didn't want to see Hermione dance with someone else. He had few options though, considering he shared his room with the other boys in his year.

Shrugging on his formal robes and combing his hair, he shuffled to meet with Theo and Blaise, who were escorting Tracy and Daphne respectively. Hermione was noticeably missing from the group, but Draco didn't dare ask after her. A knot formed in his stomach as he realised she must be attending with someone from another House. He supposed it was better than her going with Blaise. Draco swallowed thickly as his mind ran through options of who it might be.

Hermione wasn't among any of the groups of students that they passed as they made their way towards the ball. It wasn't until they were at the base of the steps leading to the Great Hall and Pansy gasped audibly that Draco found the only witch he cared to see.

She had followed shortly behind the group, and when he first turned, he hardly even recognised the girl descending the staircase. Her curls were tame and pulled away from her face to cascade down her back. The periwinkle gown must have been Muggle. Draco didn't know much about fashion trends for witches, but he had never seen a witch in dress robes similar to what she wore.

A sharp jab in his side startled Draco out of his reverie, and he turned to find Pansy glaring at him. Had his mouth been hanging open? It was hard to know. He looked again towards Hermione, only to see her smiling at Harry as the boy offered his arm.

Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Draco stiffly escorted Pansy into the hall. Jealousy coursed through him in sharp, crashing waves, before he placed it into a box in the back of his mind and schooled his features. Of course, he should have known the two of them would attend together. They were practically inseparable. 

However, while in the past, he might have lashed out by being more overt in his attentions to Pansy, Draco couldn't find the energy to do so. His date tried to claim his attention, and he knew he should dance with her. Except that would mean that he might pass by Hermione and Harry. Or, Merlin forbid, he might find himself her partner momentarily depending on which dance was being performed.

Draco didn't think he could bear it if it came to that. Instead, he sulked at his table while Pansy pouted. His eyes didn't leave Hermione for long. She was beautiful and radiant. With every smile that she flashed at Harry, Draco felt her slipping further from him.

In a last-ditch attempt to gain his attention, Pansy tried to pull him in for a kiss. It only took a graze of their lips for Draco to know it was all wrong. Whereas the brief kiss he shared with Hermione when they were children sent a shock of pure ecstasy through his entire being, the one with Pansy physically pained him. He didn't think it was her.

Actually, he was _sure_ it wasn't her.

Draco knew Pansy kissed other boys, and none of them seemed to have any complaints. She never told him, but it wasn't a secret. Oddly, he found he never really cared.

With a stiff apology, he informed Pansy of what they both already knew. They were better off as friends. He didn't expect her to take it as well as she did, but with the prospect of his vaults off the table, she flitted away to find more exciting company.

He couldn't blame her. 

As luck would have it, he passed Hermione on his way out, offering a small nod in greeting. When she didn’t immediately curse him, or begin to yell, he took a chance. 

“You look pretty tonight.”

Chancing a final look at her, Draco left the ball.

* * *

"Hello, Hermione. Come with me."

Hermione looked up from her book in surprise. She hadn't even heard her father enter the library. He wasn't expected back in the country for the Christmas holiday, but apparently, he changed his plans.

Following him silently through the halls of Malfoy Manor, Hermione wondered what he might want to speak with her in regards to. As much as he could, her father seemed to avoid spending time with her alone. When he finally stopped, she looked up to see the door to Lucius' study. It must be serious, then. Theodore wouldn't intrude otherwise.

"What is it, father?" Hermione asked the moment the door closed. 

She knew she should have waited until he addressed her again, but the storm of anxiety and apprehension that built at the possibility of bad news was impossible to ignore.

Theodore poured himself a drink and stood by the fire, gazing into it contemplatively. Her father was never a man of many words, but the years without her mother had served to make him even more withdrawn. Hermione wondered what he would be like if her mother was still alive. From what Hermione could recall, Helene brought out an entirely different side of him. Her bright, cheery disposition was the perfect balance to his quiet, solemn demeanour.

Only a minute or two passed before he spoke, but it felt like an eternity.

"You attended the Yule Ball with the Potter boy."

Confusion clouded her mind momentarily. She knew appearances were of utmost importance among pureblood circles, but many other students of their status attended the ball with their friends, at least in their Fourth Year.

"Yes, father. I did. Theo and I are friends with him. Aunt Narcissa hosted Harry and his adoptive father here at the Manor last summer."

Theodore turned then, a look of softness flitting across his phase as he gazed at Hermione. At that moment, she was reminded of the father from her childhood - one who was demure but made his love apparent.

"I'm aware I haven't made myself available to you or Theo these past few years." He sighed and took another sip from his glass. "It's been...difficult since your mother passed away."

Hermione fought the urge to cry. She hadn't spoken with her father about her mother since the funeral. Her pain had been hers alone to bear. Hermione wanted to resent him for it, and sometimes she did. Still, it was in instances like this that she was reminded of the magnitude of his loss.

Everyone grieved in their own way. When Helene died, Theodore lost his connection to the world around him. Many might have condemned him for abandoning his children in their time of need. Hermione could empathise with him, though. The situation wasn't ideal, but she survived.

"I apologise if my date for the evening has caused problems for you. Harry is half-blood, and I know some don't condone the relationship between Sirius and Remus, but—"

"It's not that," Theodore said.

Her confusion grew. "Then, what is it?"

"While the match isn't ideal, I would be dishonouring your mother's memory if I didn't at least try to be open-minded. I won't hide the fact that his standing to inherit the Black Lordship and Estate also help."

"The match?" Hermione repeated.

"You know there was a time I hoped you would marry Draco. You're far too bright a girl to not see how your mothers have pushed the two of you together. However, if Harry is your preferred choice, I will contact Lord Black about a formal betrothal—"

"Wait, father! Just... Hold on. You've got it all wrong." 

Hermione knew it was risky to interrupt, but she couldn't bear to let him continue. Theodore contemplated with a questioning look as he waited for her to continue.

"I told you, Harry and I are just friends. I'm certain everyone in our year went with people their friends... While I appreciate your support, reaching out to Sirius won't be necessary. It would actually be quite embarrassing." 

She chuckled awkwardly at imagining the look that would cross Harry and Sirius' faces to receive an owl from her father with a request to arrange a betrothal. Hermione was sure Harry held no interest for her in that sense. She saw the way he and Theo glanced at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking. Still, when Harry asked if she would attend the ball with him, she didn't question it.

The idea of attending with someone she knew would have no expectations of her was reassuring. Besides, they always had fun together. Harry was a perfect gentleman all night, and she didn't regret her decision. At least, she hadn't, until now. The conversation with her father was uncomfortable, to begin with, but the mention of Draco only made it more painful.

"Are you still agreeable, then, to continuing the arrangement with the Malfoys?"

The question brought her attention back to the moment as her father continued to study her. He knew more than he was letting on, likely due to Narcissa. While Hermione was confident she could trust her aunt, she was also aware that there were matters Narcissa was bound to share with Theodore.

"I'm not sure. I get the impression that Draco might be hoping for a contract with a different family."

"I see. I imagine you're unlikely to tell me more on the matter?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she nodded her head. She loved her father, and she accepted his absences. But, talking about Draco and Pansy, and her irritating emotions that resulted from seeing together was more than Hermione could bear.

"Does this bother you?" Theodore seemed to understand, anyway. "I know you were close with the boy as children."

"People change as they become older. We've grown apart in the past few years. So, no. It doesn't bother me."

She attempted an air of nonchalance and disinterest, knowing all the while that she was failing miserably. Hermione never had been good at hiding her emotions.

"Is there anyone you have taken a liking to?"

The fact that her father was essentially asking if she had a crush was surreal. She saw him a handful of times per year, yet, there they stood in the office of Malfoy Manor, discussing boys.

"N-no," she said. "I've been too focused on studies."

"An excellent point. I'm proud of you. I should say it more, but I hope you know. Your mother would have been proud, too."

At that, Hermione felt a stray tear slide down her cheek. It was challenging to maintain in control after the tumultuous broom-ride of emotions she experienced throughout the conversation.

After allowing her time to compose herself, Theodore continued. "Are you opposed to a match with Draco?"

"I couldn't say. I'm aware you hoped to formalise the agreement by our sixteenth birthdays. Might I have more time to formulate an opinion on the matter?"

"That seems reasonable." A small smile graced his lips.

"Thank you, father."

Theodore crossed the room to stand in front of her. His eyes scanned her face as his hands settled on her shoulders. He seemed to be studying her features. She knew he saw an echo of Helene. At least, Hermione hoped he did. Sometimes it felt as if her resemblance to her mother was all she had left of the woman.

"Will you forgive an old man? I don't deserve it. I can't promise I'll be the parent your mother was. Still, I will endeavour to be more present in both of your lives."

His eyes were glassy as she nodded vehemently, a squeaked _'_ _yes'_ her only response. Flinging her arms around his torso, Hermione squeezed her father in a tight hug. The tears flowed freely as he returned her embrace.

* * *

"Your mother tells me you attended the Yule Ball with Miss Parkinson."

It was the two days before the end of the holiday, and Draco was seated across from his father. Summons to his father's study were a rare treat. However, Draco felt his chest tighten when the topic of discussion became clear.

"That's right." His eyes dropped to study his hands in his lap.

"You spend significant time with the girl, do you not?"

"It's a group of us - Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy."

Draco felt the weight of his father's gaze but refused to look up or offer further information. It was true that he did spend much of the day with Pansy. Yet, it wasn't as if they were _together_.

"Hermione informed her father that you were interested in pursuing a betrothal with a different family, instead of the Notts. Where did she get this idea?"

Draco's eyes widened for a moment before he once more schooled his features. Hermione and her father spoke about the betrothal? Theodore visited for a few days between Christmas Eve and New Year, but Draco didn't realise the elder Nott was seeking information regarding the arrangement.

He couldn't stop a blush from spreading across his neck and face as he thought about how uncomfortable a conversation it must have been for Hermione. He wondered what exactly she said to her father. She had clearly interpreted his friendship with Pansy as a sign of his interest in the other girl. That was entirely his fault. In fact, it was sort of his intention all along, wasn't it?

In the absence of a response, Lucius continued. "The House of Parkinson is respectable enough. Your mother and I thought we made it clear that we intended for you and Hermione to marry one day. However, if Miss Parkinson is your preference, and you and the girl already have an understanding, I will contact her father and begin negotiations."

Draco choked on his saliva as the significance of the conversation sank in. 

"Wait, father. That's not what I want. I’m not sure what Granger _assumed_ but, Pansy and I are just friends."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Lucius raised a brow in evident disdain and disbelief. "One you refer to intimately, the other formally."

"It's the truth. I'm not blameless, but I have no intentions towards Pansy. She knows that."

Several tense moments dragged on before his father spoke again.

"Regardless of your understanding with Miss Parkinson, I imagine you've created a mess with Hermione."

"I don't know if I can fix it."

Silence settled between them once more as Draco allowed the guilt and shame of his actions to settle onto his chest.

"I imagine there might still be hope yet," Lucius said.

His head whipped up as his heart began to pound in his chest. "Did Mr Nott say something?"

"He may have. But, I won't say more on the topic. It was shared in confidence."

Still, the vague disclosure served its purpose in renewing the flame of hope that Draco held for repairing his friendship with Hermione. That would need to be the first step before he considered the implication of a future marriage.

"Can we go to Diagon tomorrow? Just you and I, please. I need to find a gift and I think your advice would be more helpful than mother's."

In the past, when they were children, Draco, Hermione, and Theo always traded presents on Christmas. However, more recently, the items exchanged had become impersonal. It became a perfunctory obligation, rather than an exciting, warm gift giving of friends. 

He couldn't even be sure what he gave either of them this year. His mother or one of the house-elves would have purchased the itmes for the Notts, on his behalf. Now, Draco knew he needed to get something special. It would be a gift that conveyed the thousands of apologies he owed her.

"We can go," Lucius said. "Although, you may need more than a simple trinket to win back her affection."

Draco felt his ears heat at the idea of her _affections_ , even though he knew his father's comment was entirely innocent. The truth was that ever since the summer, he began to see Hermione as an actual girl.

Up until then, she was his former best friend or his bossy peer. It was hard to imagine that she was more than the playmate of his childhood. However, upon seeing her in the Muggle apparel that must have been invented to torture, Draco understood that Hermione was, in fact, a girl.

The realisation was a difficult one to make, considering it came at the same time Draco was becoming more aware of his own body. Having to come to terms with the fact that they were no longer children was an adjustment. It was only made worse by the reality that Hermione appeared to harbour an immense hatred for him.

Unfortunately, that knowledge did nothing to temper his body's response to the memory of her by the pool.

Draco promptly cleared his mind of those images, lest he found himself in a compromising position in front of his father. He shuddered at the mere thought of that occurring. Turning his attention back toward the task at hand, he considered how he might begin in making amends.

It was evident that he would need more than a gift. He knew that without his father having to say it. Still, a thoughtful present wouldn't hurt his case. He would need to apologise for everything, but Draco thought it might be best to take it one step at a time.

The first goal was to extend a peace offering. Otherwise, Hermione might hex him if he tried to approach her.

A delicate gold necklace with a small 'H' charm hanging from the centre would hopefully do the trick. Draco left it outside the door to her suite in the manor with a short note attached.

_I've been a terrible friend. I'm sorry. Please consider forgiving me._

_DLM_

He would more fully express his regrets in person, once he gauged her reaction to the necklace and note. If she disregarded it, he would need to brainstorm another way of showing her how repentant he was. Draco was determined to speak with her, one way or another, regardless of how long it took to gain her trust.

While he wasn't expecting her to run to his room the moment she found the gift, Draco found himself a bit disappointed when all he received was a brief note in response.

_Thank you._

_HJGN_

It wasn't the worst-case scenario, but he had hoped she might at least thank him in person. That would offer the perfect opening to the lengthier conversation he knew they needed to have. As much as he dreaded the prospect of laying himself bare before her, there was no way around it.

Unfortunately, it didn't appear that she was ready for that and he only had himself to blame. That was fine, though. He would shift his demeanour at school and towards their classmates when they returned to Hogwarts. What better way to prove he was contrite than to show her?

There would be many who wouldn't trust his motives, of that Draco was sure. While he was ashamed of his past behaviour, the primary drive behind the shift was selfish. He wanted to prove to Hermione that he was still the friend she used to care for. He could demonstrate to her that he was capable of being a better person.

It was exhausting to think about, but he knew it would be worth it.

When he saw her for the first time after their return, sitting between Daphne and Theo further down the Slytherin table, Draco's heart soared.

She was wearing the necklace.

* * *

Hermione glanced at the woman across from her with a slight sense of trepidation.

When Narcissa had written to ask for her companionship on a Saturday in early February, Hermione wondered if it might be some ploy to trick information out of her. Her aunt claimed that she desired company since Lucius would be out of town. Hermione felt it all to be too coincidental.

That was a bit unfair. Narcissa likely did want to see her. However, Hermione still hadn't spoken to Draco since he gifted her the necklace, beyond the note she sent in return.

It wasn't for his lack of trying. There were several occasions where it was apparent that Draco was hoping to speak with her, but instead of facing him, Hermione always escaped him.

She wouldn't say she was _avoiding_ him, per se. Still, it seemed that she always conveniently found ways to evade his attempts at conversation and find ways around being left alone with him. The frustration he felt at being thwarted was clear in his demeanor. Hermione did feel a bit guilty about that. Yet, at the same time, it was unfair for her to speak with him when she didn't know where she stood.

The necklace had been a sweet gesture. Hermione appreciated the simplicity of it and the acknowledgement of her given name. When she slid it around her neck, she knew the subliminal message it would send, but it was just too pretty to leave in the box.

Hermione also noticed that despite her unwillingness to sort things out between them just yet, Draco had taken to comporting himself in a better manner. He stopped picking on younger students, merely ignoring them instead. He even left Harry alone, for the most part. The shift in his behaviour was so stark that Harry was positive Draco was up to something. 

Despite these evident attempts to be better, Hermione just wasn't ready. She hoped Narcissa wouldn't push too hard.

Sighing softly, Hermione stirred her tea.

"What's wrong, dear?" Narcissa asked.

_Everything._

"Nothing." The lie came quickly.

It was clear Narcissa didn't believe her, but she let it go.

"How are your classes?"

"Good, as usual." Hermione smiled. 

Schoolwork was always a safe topic.

"And the advice I offered on a certain, prickly professor?"

"Worked like a charm, as you knew it would."

"Wonderful. How do your friends find themselves?"

"They're doing well! Daph and Harry asked that I pass along their greetings when I saw you."

Narcissa nodded in acknowledgement. "Are you and Miss Greengrass still interested in a change of scenery for our next summer trip?"

"Yes, if you don't mind!" It was impossible to temper her excitement at the prospect. "Daph is so excited to see how the fashion scene there compares to the one in Paris."

"I imagine you're more eager to explore the broader Muggle culture of the city?" Narcissa laughed delicately at Hermione's enthusiastic nod. "Just like your mother."

Helene rarely came up in conversation with her aunt, but Hermione was always eager to learn more about her mother from the other woman's eyes. While Hermione knew her as a parent and witnessed her as a wife, she found the friendship between Helene and Narcissa to be a fascinating one.

"Did she ever take you to Milan?" Hermione asked.

"No, we didn't make it there, but together we visited other Muggle cities in Italy. There was one afternoon while we were in Florence when we got more intoxicated than I care to admit."

Leaning forward, Hermione listened intently. The corners of Narcissa's eyes crinkled as she smiled at the memory.

"There was a little restaurant, and the liquor they served was stronger than most I've had. Once we finished our meal, your mother led me to the shops. Do you know where we ended up?"

Hermione shook her head. The question was rhetorical, but she couldn't help it. The nervous, enthusiastic energy at receiving another snapshot of her mother was oozing from Hermione's every pore.

"A Muggle lingerie shop," Narcissa whispered. 

A small smirk pulled at the corners of her lips as she wiggled her eyebrows in a conspiratory manner. Hermione gasped, which was the exact reaction Narcissa was looking for. This was a new side to her aunt that she had yet to see. It seemed Narcissa had come to a decision that Hermione was old enough to speak to more as an equal, and it was an incredible feeling.

"I had never seen such scandalous garments, of course. But your mother was right at home! She insisted we try items on, no matter how many times I tried to convince her to leave." 

Narcissa laughed again, though it was a fuller, more authentic sound this time. Looking past Hermione's shoulder, her face settled into a soft smile. 

"Once I was in the dressing room, I realised just how much of a genius Helene was. I had never felt more confident before in my entire life. I knew I had to purchase the set."

"I always wondered why you were so comfortable with the Muggle clothing we purchase in Paris," Hermione said.

"Well, comparatively, even your little swimsuits are quite tame."

Hermione could only imagine.

"Your mother was a wonderful woman, and I've never had a truer friend."

"I miss her."

"As do I, darling. I'm sorry she couldn't be here to watch you grow up."

Narcissa reached across the table to hold both of Hermione's hands in hers. The smile on her face no longer reached her eyes, but it was evident that the fondness brought about by the memory remained.

"I hope one day I can be just like her," Hermione said.

"You remind me more and more of her every day."

Warm brown eyes and a brilliant smile flashed through Hermione's memory. Her heart clenched at the vision, but she swallowed back any sadness. She hoped one day she might remember the woman without feeling as though her chest would cave in. 

"Really?"

"Absolutely. You're brave, determined, intelligent, and fierce like Helene was. It took a strong woman to capture your father's interest, and to plant the seeds of change in a society like ours."

Hermione had heard that her father was a notorious bachelor before he married Helene, but hardly gave it much thought. She did wonder at times about the age difference between her parents, and how her father was so much older than her parents' classmates.

Perhaps he had simply been waiting for his soulmate.

"You're still too young to truly understand what a profound impact Helene had on the wizarding community here, but one day we'll discuss at length."

"I look forward to that," Hermione said.

"You'll have just as lasting of an impression. I'm sure of it. I only hope you'll allow me to be a part of your journey, the way your mother was a part of mine."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Aunt Narcissa."

The blonde woman smiled before calling for the waiter to pay. The time for reminiscing was decidedly over.

"You will keep me apprised on how the new term progresses, won't you? I do love receiving your letters."

"Of course, I'll remind Theo to write to you as well."

"Thank you, my dear. I look forward to having you back for summer. I believe your father may be joining us for a short period, also."

Narcissa smiled as she offered Hermione her arm as they exited the cafe, and together they Disapparated back to the school grounds.


	7. Summer

Draco could not imagine a better way to spend a warm summer day than playing a modified Quidditch match. There were only six of them, which meant two Chasers and one Keeper per team. His crew, composed of Blaise and Vincent, was in the lead. At that moment, life was nearly perfect. 

Renewing his friendship with Hermione was the final missing piece.

That wasn't to say that interactions between the two of them were still tense and filled with angry glares. Instead, Draco and Hermione had come to somewhat of an impasse. She wore the necklace he gave her every day, but she also had yet to speak with him privately.

After several failed attempts at approaching her, Draco took a step back. It was evident that she needed more time. While patience was not his strong suit, he could only hope that Hermione would come to him when she was ready. He apologised to Harry shortly after the start of Spring Term and, since then, a tentative friendship blossomed between them.

Draco soon found that life was actually much more enjoyable when he wasn't spending all his time intimidating other students. Further, when he applied himself in his coursework, his grades were comparable to Hermione. He hadn't managed to overtake her scores, but he got close. Draco hoped she noticed the changes.

Focusing his attention back on the game at hand, Draco caught the Quaffle that Blaise tossed to him and sped towards the goalposts. Theo was Keeper for the other team, and Draco knew it would be an easy score. Harry and Gregory chased after him, attempting to intercept, but Draco was too fast.

His parents had gifted him a broom earlier in the week for his birthday, and Draco was pleased to find it was the newest in the Nimbus series. It was only a matter of time before he got the rest of the boys to come over for a test ride. He sped past the two on his tail, Blaise following closely in case backup was needed.

The wind whipped around him, and the warm sun tickled his skin as he rapidly outpaced even his own shadow. Draco barrelled towards the goalposts at a breakneck speed, a loud _whoop_ escaping him when the ball flew through the hoop. There was no chance the other team could catch up now. He allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction as Draco thought of Harry's face when his team inevitably lost.

However, the thrill of impending victory was cut short, when his new broom malfunctioned. Draco felt a stab of fear as the grove of trees behind the Manor's Quidditch pitch grew closer. He couldn't stop. The broom seemed to have a mind of its own. It carried him directly towards a large English Oak at the same velocity, refusing to heel despite all of Draco's desperate attempts.

A clatter of silverware and an ear-piercing scream filled the air as he collided with the tree trunk. He heard the thunderous roar of footsteps accompanied by shouts of his name as the world faded in and out. 

Was that Hermione calling out to him?

It was hard to tell.

The world around him spun wildly as Draco struggled to sit. If he had eaten breakfast, he was sure it would be on the ground beside him.

Then, the noise and commotion engulfed him. Soft hands gently shifted his head into a comfortable lap as his mother called for his house-elf, Pipsey.

The familiar _pop_ of the elf's Apparition made him cringe, and Draco felt the warm sensation of magic settled over his frame. Pipsey was muttering frantically under her breath as the diagnostic spell ran its course.

A different, soothing voice crooned softly to him. Gentle fingers pushed his hair back and away from his face. The strands felt matted, but he didn't know if it was sweat, blood, or both. He belatedly hoped he hadn't suffered a severe injury. Droplets of water slid down his face. When Draco tried to reach up to brush them away, his entire body screamed in pain at the exertion.

"I'm sorry, Draco," a melodious, female voice said with a watery hiccup. 

Thumbs grazed his cheekbones to wipe away the tears. He opened his eyes or tried to at least, but the bright sunlight only added to the pounding in his head. With a grimace, he squeezed them back shut.

"Don't. You shouldn't exert yourself." 

Hermione was supporting his head. Even in his dazed state, Draco would recognise that swotty voice anywhere. Her hands framed his face as Pipsey uncorked a vial to pour down his throat. The pain began to fade, and when he tried to open his eyes again, he found brown eyes worriedly watching him.

"Worried about me, Granger?" 

The corner of his mouth lifted into a ghost of his typical smirk, but it had the same effect. Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. 

"Do you have a death wish? What were you playing at, flying at that speed towards the trees? Were you trying to give your mother a heart attack?"

"Maybe I was just trying to get you to talk to me."

Blaise chuckled lowly, but the sound was faint. He heard Harry grumble about Draco's flair for the dramatic. His mother tutted her tongue as him in disapproval. Still, when Draco turned to look at her, Narcissa flashed him a relieved smile.

Hermione continued to stroke his face softly, even as her brows furrowed in consternation. "There are better ways to do it than injuring yourself. You could have been killed, or worse!"

"What's worse than being killed?" Draco asked.

He moved to sit, several hands all reaching out to steady him.

"Expulsion," Hermione said, with a haughty lift of her chin.

Draco felt his eyes drop to her mouth as she bit back a smile. Before he could retort, his mother was ushering him back to the Manor with the assistance of Pipsey.

He would have liked to continue the exchange with, but maybe this was the start of a new chapter for the two of them.

* * *

Hermione had been at the beach near the Malfoy seaside villa for several hours now. She was perfectly content to soak in the salt in the air and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. They arrived in France earlier that week, and Hermione spent nearly every free moment laying on the hot sand. Sometimes Theo or Draco would find their way down to the strip of sand she haunted. Other times, she had the shore all to herself.

After his accident earlier in the summer, Hermione felt a shift between her and Draco. She had been worried out of her mind when she watched in horror as he collided with the tree. However, the relief she felt at seeing his crooked grin when he came to still wasn't enough to make her seek him out after the fact.

Evidently, he was making changes, and Hermione knew that Harry and Draco were getting along much better these days. Even so, she hadn't talked with him about his gift to her or his apology to Harry. The other boy told her about it almost immediately after Draco spoke with him, but Hermione wanted to discuss it with Draco, too.

She absent-mindedly ran her fingers along the chain of the necklace before rubbing the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. She flipped the page to her novel, her eyes scanning the words of the page rapidly. Still, her mind was on him.

So much time passed since his last attempt to talk to her. Now that she was ready to hear Draco out, Hermione wasn't sure how to approach him. She sighed as she reached the bottom of the page. Not a single word of what she read was actually retained, which meant she would need to begin again.

Just as her eyes flitted back to the start of the page, a shadow fell across her. It couldn't be Theo. He was quiet, but would just sit down next to her. This shadow was hesitantly hovering.

Hermione leaned onto her side and looked up, her hand covering her eyes to block the sun and the bright glare of white-blond hair. Draco glanced away before their eyes met, his feet shuffling in the hot sand. He looked unsure of himself, which almost made her nervous. It was rare to see Draco appear doubtful. Hermione was reminded of the time when they were children, and he didn't want to go to Muggle London.

"Would you like to share the blanket with me?"

Hermione flashed him a small grin as she shifted on the light blanket to make room for him. His eyes appreciatively darted down her body, fast as lightning. If she blinked, she would have missed it. 

She rolled back onto her stomach to hide her growing smirk and placed her book in front of her. The way he acted around her was as if he had a crush on her, though the idea of her oldest friend having _feelings_ towards her felt a bit surreal. Even if they were supposed to marry one day, it was hard to imagine.

A thump next to her was the only indication that Draco accepted her offer.

Thirty minutes passed in silence as he read, also. It was peaceful. For the first time in what felt like forever, Hermione and Draco were able to exist in the same vicinity as one another without bickering or trading thinly veiled insults. She could have just lay there all day, with Draco for company, and been perfectly content.

However, when it became evident that the sunblock would need to be reapplied, a better idea came to mind. Reading side by side was fun, but teasing Draco a bit was surely _more_ fun. Maybe this way she could confirm whether he was attracted to her.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"I need your help with something."

His head jerked up, eyes opened wide. She hadn't asked for anything from him in years. An expression of pure suspicion flitted over his face before he sat up and shifted towards her.

"What is it, Granger?"

Hermione turned from him, rolling her eyes. She wasn't going to get into the name debate with him now. Her plans were undoubtedly more important than succumbing to her annoyance. Grabbing the small bottle of Muggle sun protection, she held it out to him.

"Can you put some of this on my back?"

Despite facing away, she heard the strangled cough that escaped him. Her grin widened. She had him right where she wanted him.

"Y-Your back?"

Schooling her face into an expression of pure innocence, she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and brows furrowed in false confusion.

"Yes? It needs to be applied every few hours, and it's time for another coat. But it's hard for me to make sure my back is covered. Your mother helped me this morning before I left the villa."

"Why wouldn't you just cast a charm?"

Hermione shrugged. "This one smells nice, and it works better."

"Gods." He groaned. "Fine, give it here."

She handed him the bottle with a smile. "Thank you, Draco."

He met her grin with a shaky, nearly imperceptible one of his own, squeezing the cream onto his hands before rubbing them together. Hermione turned her back towards him and looked out at the waves.

"It smells like pineapples and vanilla," he muttered.

Her smile grew. "Yes, it does. Do you like it?"

"It's, uh, nice."

A small sigh escaped her when his hands skimmed across her shoulders. The cool lotion felt delightful against her sun-soaked skin. His hands seemed to have grown in the past few years, too. The way his fingers tickled along the lines of her back instantly relaxed her.

"How much am I supposed to put on?" 

His thick timbre startled her from the lull she had fallen into.

"Just enough to lightly cover the skin."

"Oh, well, then you should be good."

She adjusted to sit on her bum and flashed him a genuine smile. 

Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as Draco tried and failed to look away. Her hands skimmed her arms, chest, shoulders, and stomach as she reapplied the lotion to her front. When she reached her legs, he blushed and spluttered before collecting his belongings and fleeing back to the safety of the villa.

Stifling a laugh, she found her attention entirely devoted to the book for the first time all day.

* * *

Draco avoided Hermione for a few days after the beach incident, but once they were back at Malfoy Manor, he knew it was time to begin the task of winning her heart.

If she had reverted back to friendly teasing and could spend time in his presence without threatening to hex him, he needed to try again. She liked to read in the gardens after breakfast. She usually spent that time alone. It was his best chance at catching her without an audience.

Wiping the sweat from his palms as he strode towards the bench she usually haunted, Draco rehearsed his apology. The moment she looked up from the large book on her lap, all of his practised speech was forgotten.

"Draco? Is something the matter?"

"Can we talk?"

"Yes." Hermione wrapped her legs beneath her to make space for him. 

With a heavy exhale he fell to the seat beside her. "Where to start?" 

He ran his fingers through his hair, a heavy silence settled between them. After several moments that dragged on for an eternity, he twisted his body to face Hermione directly.

"I was mad at you," he said.

Hermione lifted a brow and waited for him to continue.

"After we, er, kissed. On my eleventh birthday. You ran. You shut me out. We were supposed to be friends, and I thought you abandoned me."

"Draco, my mother—"

"I know, I know. You were grieving, but I was a selfish little shite, and I was hurt. So that's the first thing I'm sorry for. It wasn't fair of me."

Hermione was uncharacteristically silent as she waited for him to continue.

"Then, when you stood up to me before the Sorting. I couldn't believe you would choose someone else over me." Another sigh escaped him. "But, I was being a bit of a prick at the time, wasn't I?"

He heard her scoff, and a small smile spread across his face.

"I hated that you were so much smarter than me, and were beating me in all our classes. I mean, I expected as much, growing up with you."

"Maybe if you weren't spending so much time being a bully, you might have actually been able to compete with me," she said.

"I missed you the whole time, you know. I did everything I could to get your attention. Behaving overly friendly with Pansy... Torturing Potter... That was all for your benefit."

She laughed dryly. "Gee, thanks."

"I was an idiot."

"Was?"

"Am."

Hermione nodded in agreement but grinned at him all the same.

"Then you became friends with Potter."

"You're friends with him now, too."

"Yes, but at the time, I wanted to kill him. I hoped that my friendship with Pansy might make you jealous, but—"

"It did make me jealous, at first. Still, even when you were being an absolute arsehole, I only wished you happiness. If you can find that with Pansy, then I could live with it."

Draco filed away her admission for review later, intent on staying focused on the conversation. Lucius might have told Theodore about Draco's desire to remain committed to the betrothal agreement, or he might have not. If his father had, it didn't mean Hermione knew. Still, she was wearing the necklace he gave her.

"You would really want that for me? Even after I was so unbearable to you and your friend?"

"Of course, Draco. You have been awful, but I know there's still kindness in you. My favourite sweets appearing during Third Year finals was because of you. Don't even try to deny it."

"I asked Mother if she could send them overnight." His cheeks heated at the memory. "Thank you for believing in me. I didn't deserve it."

Hermione merely shrugged.

"So, you think I want to be with Pansy?"

"Don't you? She's the only girl you've spent time with these last four years. You call her by her first name. You attended Yule together last year."

The evidence was rather damning when she laid it out like that.

"Yet, you're still wearing the necklace I gave you."

It was her turn to blush. "It's pretty."

"I thought you would like it the instant I saw it."

"You were right. Thank you again."

Draco paused, steeling himself. "I know you know what jewellery means."

When he looked up, her gaze was fixed on her hands—even the smallest baubles carried weight in their society. That she not only accepted his gift but also continued to wear it was significant. It was what gave him hope through the entire Spring Term.

"I do." Her response was so quiet he almost missed it.

"I never see you without it."

"Pansy told our dormitory how her Yule ended with Anthony Goldstein. I noticed after we returned that you two seem more distant."

Of course, Hermione had taken note. Nothing escaped her.

"My father asked over the holiday whether I wanted him to arrange a contract with the Parkinsons."

"My father asked me the same about House Black."

Darco inhaled sharply. He hadn't known that Theodore was also questioning the arrangement.

"I told him Harry and I are just friends." 

It was as if she had read Draco's mind.

"I informed Father I wasn’t interested in Pansy."

"What does that mean for us?"

"I know what I want," Draco said with conviction. "Do you?"

"I think so—"

His heart soared.

"But—"

Just as quickly, it sank into his stomach.

"That is to say, do you think we could start over as friends, first? You used to be so important to me. I want to reestablish our friendship before we consider what our fathers want for our future."

Draco felt dizzy at the whirlwind of emotions. At least she wasn't disregarding him completely, though.

"That sounds reasonable, Granger." He flashed her a lazy smirk.

The grin grew when her brows knit together in consternation.

"Is there any chance you'll call me Hermione? Or at least Nott?"

"Not a chance," he said. "You'll always be Granger to me now."

She rolled her eyes, but Draco caught the smile Hermione tried to hide as she turned back to her book.

* * *

Since their conversation in the gardens, Hermione and Draco fell back into a comfortable routine. Sometimes it felt as if the past four years, especially their Third Year, hadn't even occurred. Being with him felt natural.

There was no use holding onto old grudges and grievances once he apologised. The truth of the matter was that Hermione missed his friendship, as well. Now that was making progress to returning to his former self, his _true_ self, Hermione was eager to foster the relationship between them. 

It would only serve to hurt both of them if she tried to punish him for past mistakes. She knew he was endeavouring to set aside the arguments and perceived slights that occurred in the last four years. They both agreed that they wanted to begin anew. The benefit was that they still knew one another. Hermione and Draco chose to focus on the good in their history.

The bad couldn't be erased, but forgiveness was sought and granted. 

Narcissa immediately observed the shift between them. Private, separate conversations with the two of them served to remind first Draco and then Hermione of the expected behaviour.

They were now of an age at which they were expected to have a chaperone or additional companionship when they spent time together. Gone were the days of innocent childhood. As they neared adulthood, certain etiquette and protocol must be observed.

The unfortunate obligation of accompanying fell to Theo, though he hardly said a word on the matter. While Hermione lectured Draco on the dangers of brooms, on his first ride after the accident, Theo wisely stayed out of it. When Draco and Hermione spent hours locked in heated intellectual debate, Theo merely sighed and asked the house-elves for cotton to plug his ears. If Draco's teasing earned him a verbal lashing from Hermione, Theo would smirk and turn a blind eye.

Some days, Harry joined them, and then Theo was adequately occupied. However, even when it was just the three of them, it still felt right.

Mostly, she, Draco, and Theo spent hours and hours in the library. The Malfoy archives were one of the places that they could all easily preoccupy themselves, and thus it was the obvious choice.

Hermione found herself on most days, sitting at the end of one of the long, navy couches. Usually, Draco sat beside her. Not too close, to be improper, but close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. Sometimes Draco made himself comfortable at the other end and pulled her feet into his across his legs. Every now and then, he would lay his head in her lap.

Those were her favourite times. 

It was how she found herself on a sunny afternoon. 

Harry was visiting. He and Theo were at one of the tables across the room, playing wizarding chess. The quiet murmurs of their conversation blended into the background.

Hermione perched _Pride and Prejudice_ on the arm of the sofa. The book was charmed to stand at the idea angle and to flip the page with a single tap. This left her other hand free to run her fingers through Draco's soft hair. She loved the way the silky strands slipped through her grasp, and he hummed in contentment when her nails scratched his scalp.

"What are you reading?"

Her eyes flickered down to find him gazing up at her. While they were still working on being friends again, it was hard to control her racing pulse when she looked at him.

"Another book from the list of my mother's favourite Muggle literature."

"How do you like this one?"

"It's incredible. What are you reading?"

Draco closed the book to show her the cover to the latest in a series by a popular wizarding author. The hero of the story was a Curse-Breaker. It wasn't Hermione's personal choice, but she knew Draco loved the books.

"Is it comparable to the preceding books?"

"Yes, but this one specifically involves Arithmancy. Or it’s supposed to. I want to read you an excerpt. I'm not sure the writer has ever taken a course on the subject."

Hermione marked her place and leaned her head to rest along the back of the couch. Her eyes drifted shut as Draco began to share the passage with her. Her fingers flitted across his forehead and continued through his hair in effortless motions. Part of her wondered if she could convince him to read all her books to her.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed.

"Well?" Draco asked once he finished reading.

"You're right. The wizard who wrote this knows nothing on the topic. You know what would make the story more believable?"

Hermione launched into a detailed description of Arithmancy, and its applications in curse-breaking. It would have been a difficult conversation to follow, for most. Although she hadn't yet taken the course at Hogwarts, it was a topic of interest for Hermione. She had read many of the tomes in the Malfoy Library on the matter. 

While Draco was less interested, he was able to keep up. He asked questions at the appropriate times, his grey eyes burning paths across the planes of her face as he listened with an intensity that made her blush. It wasn't until she moved into how the subject might be written into fiction that they disagreed.

It started as a polite, civil debate. Regardless, Hermione couldn't engage with Draco and remain calm for long. He brought out the fire in her. The passion she felt when during their discussions was unmatched. It didn't take long for her voice to reach new volumes as her hair sparked and crackled around her.

Somehow, they were now standing, nose-to-nose, arguing about something entirely unrelated to their initial conversation. Still, Hermione hadn't been as happy for a long time as she was then.

* * *

On a normal summer day, Draco, Hermione, and Theo would share breakfast with his parents. After the meal concluded, the three teenagers went to the library, while Narcissa tended to her gardens and Lucius retreated to his study.

That morning, his father asked to speak with him, which in turn disrupted his entire morning. Lucius first wanted to discuss trivial matters. When one of his father's work acquaintances _happened_ to stop by, it became clear that Lucius merely wanted to show his son off.

When he was finally dismissed, Draco had to stop himself from racing to the library. He was late and there wasn’t a second more to waste. He and Hermione were making excellent progress in reestablishing their friendship. Draco hoped she might soon be ready for more. There were times when he sat on their couch first, waiting to see how she would respond when he perched at the end.

She chose to sit close to him every time. He also found her watching his lips when she thought his attention was otherwise occupied. Draco knew she admired his lithe body when he and the boys played Quidditch. He overheard her telling Daphne that she thought he was fit. His face flushed with pleasure any time the memory of her whispered confession came to mind.

Despite his lack of experience on the matter, the desire etched on her pretty features was evident. He had no intention of pushing her any further than she was comfortable. He would wait as long as it took for her to trust him. 

Still, Draco was a boy in the peak of his teenage years. He could hardly be blamed for allowing his mind to wander towards more salacious thoughts every so often.

Draco entered the room to find Theo sitting on one of the loveseats. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. A quick scan of the rows didn't reveal her whereabouts, either. It wasn't until he began to look for her in earnest that Draco found her, tucked away in a remote corner of the library.

She was wearing a short white dress that loosely hung off her frame. Her curls were piled high atop her head, revealing lovely tanned shoulders with a spatter of freckles. Hermione stood on her tiptoes, stretching her arm far above her head as she struggled to reach a book on a high shelf.

Sometimes, he wondered if she forgot she possessed magic.

"You could summon that, you know," he said.

She huffed. "You know we can't use our wands."

His approach had been silent, but Hermione looked towards him to retort, before straining for the tome once more. Draco chuckled lowly as he came behind her.

"There's a catalogue. Maybe you're familiar with it? I know it may sound... _magical..._ but it can call the book for you."

"I'm already here, so I might as well just—" She lost her balance and stumbled back, colliding into his chest with a soft grunt.

He snickered. "Merlin, Granger, you’re clumsy."

Ignoring her glare, he helped her stand back up before reaching around her to pluck the book from the shelf. When he looked down to offer it to her, Draco found Hermione had turned in his embrace. She was caught between the tall shelf and his body, and it didn't seem as if she were intent on escaping. Her eyes dropped to his mouth for just a moment before she focused on the book in his hand.

"Thank you." Her voice was thick and low. 

Every breath she exhaled brushed against the skin of Draco's neck. "You're welcome."

When he leaned closer to her, Hermione gulped. His elbow came to rest on the ledge above her face as he invaded her personal space. Her little pink tongue darted out to swipe along her lower lip. Draco found himself entranced by the movement. They were at the precipice of _something._ He didn't know if he was brave enough to take the leap. Yet, at the same time, he was sure he would regret it if he didn't.

"I really want to kiss you," he blurted out.

It frightened him to be so vulnerable, but when he saw his feelings mirrored in her expression, a warmth spread through his chest. When she nodded her head, he bent forward to close the remaining distance between them.

With one last look to confirm her consent, Draco pressed his lips to hers in a hesitant kiss. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't think she did either. If he was lucky, they would have many more years to practice, but for now, he wanted to take it slow.

When she moved her lips ever so slightly to mould to his, the beating in his heart was so loud Draco was sure she could hear it. Hermione was experimenting with every soft caress and touch of her mouth against his. She diving off the peak, and Draco was happy to follow her. Her hands cupped his jaw as she held him in place. He gripped her waist lightly.

Draco felt heady at the sensation of her warm skin beneath the thin fabric of the dress. It was an anchor, a reminder that this was actually happening.

On more than one occasion over the past year, Draco considered what their _second,_ first kiss might be like, if he ever got the chance to kiss her again. He wondered if his memory of their _first,_ first kiss was overexaggerated in his mind. Perhaps time and longing had made the accidental peck when they were kids seem like more than it was.

However, even with their mouths closed, the sensation of their lips shyly brushing against one another shot jolts of pleasure in rapid succession up his spine. Draco could only imagine how satisfying it would be when she finally allowed him to taste her. The thought of her tongue grazing his lips made him weak in the knees. He leaned more heavily into her. His body pressed hers into the books as his arm snaked to wrap around her back. Hermione's hands trailed to his chest as she braced herself against him.

Then, just as quickly as it started, she pulled away.

Her face was flushed, and her chest heaved as she studied him with glazed eyes.

"We should stop," she said.

Draco nodded in agreement.

"But, maybe more later?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. “Please.”

He smiled and kissed Hermione once more before leading her back towards the sitting area. Her sweet request of ‘more later’ echoed in his mind with every step.


	8. Fifth Year

"We have to go," Hermione announced to the group of Slytherins.

She stood, and Draco followed suit, grabbing the bags with their robes and slinging them over his shoulder.

Daphne smiled at them from where she sat sandwiched between Blaise and Millie. Theo waved his hand dismissively and stretched out his legs to the part of the seat that Hermione and Draco occupied. Vincent and Gregory were probably off somewhere looking for the snack trolley. No one had seen Pansy since they boarded. Hermione guessed she was with her latest fling.

"What? Oh, right, because somehow _you_ were named Prefect," Blaise said to Draco. "There was never any doubt Hermione would get it, but you, mate?"

"Who else would it be?" Draco asked, sneering haughtily at their friend. 

The expression on his face lacked the malice that it used to hold, but his annoyance at the slight was clear. Hermione flashed Draco an exasperated look before tugging on his arm.

"Come on, Draco. He's just joking."

"Yes, go on, Draco," Blaise crowed as a grin spread across his face.

Hermione glared at the boy. "You cut it out."

Raising his hands in defeat, he winked at her and grinned saucily when Draco scowled the gesture. Before it could escalate any further, Hermione pulled Draco from the train cabin and into the hallway.

"You know it only encourages him when you get riled up," she said.

They walked side by side, their hands brushing with every step as they moved down the length of the train. Hermione glanced around at the cabins full of excited students until she found one near the end that was empty. Shoving Draco through the entrance, she spun and closed the door before he even realised what was happening.

With one final check to ensure they were alone and the chance of interruption was low, Hermione pushed Draco against the window and slanted her mouth against his.

She dreamt of his lips ever since the kiss in the library. They were afforded several more opportunities for brief interludes, but privacy at the Manor was scarce.

Although the sprawling estate had countless rooms and vast grounds, someone was always around. If it wasn't Theo assigned to be their keeper, then the house-elves found the most inopportune moment to seek her or Draco out. On the rare occasion that Theo was out visiting friends, Narcissa or Lucius suddenly materialised.

Despite the many barriers, they were able to sneak a few more slow, explorative kisses in the stacks of the library. Many nights, Draco would walk Hermione to her room, as if they were returning from a date. Before bidding her goodnight, Draco would press his lips to her fingers, then her cheek, and finally, her mouth.

Yet, none of the stolen kisses was enough to satiate the hunger that had built within her.

Now, in the abandoned train cabin, she fully intended to try and satiate the need that coursed through her every time she looked at him.

Hermione pressed her body to his. Her arms wound around his shoulders, as she threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Draco responded with equal enthusiasm as he buried his hand into her curls. His fingers dug into her hip, and he pulled her more tightly against him as if she couldn't possibly be close enough.

When her tongue tentatively dipped out to swipe against the seam of his lips, he groaned. Summoning all her courage, Hermione pressed her tongue into his mouth more insistently to brush against his.

Draco froze, just for a moment, as she used her tongue to explore him. It was clumsy and messy, and a bit awkward as their teeth clacked against each other. Still, Hermione savoured the way he tasted like apples and how it felt when his tongue met hers. When a sigh escaped him that sounded like a whisper of her name, it sparked heat in her core that rapidly spread through her veins.

With a silent curse at the Muggle jeans she wore, Hermione hoisted herself into his arms. Hermione delighted in the glazed look that he got whenever she appeared for breakfast wearing the tight denims, but the lack of mobility they afforded made it challenging to wrap her legs around his waist the way she wanted to. Draco caught her effortlessly before spinning them around to press her to the window. His mouth tore from hers to drag hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck. 

Hermione held herself to him with all her strength, a shock of pleasure rippling through her when he found a spot beneath her ear. An embarrassing keen escaped her as his teeth bit down; her face heated as a blush spread across her cheeks at the realisation of how needy she sounded.

"Did you like that?" His voice was thick with want.

She whimpered when he sucked at the sensitive spot once more. "Yes."

"I've dreamt of this for so long," he said against her skin.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as his lips enveloped her earlobe before he tugged it between his teeth. "Me too." 

She sighed contentedly when his tongue traced the shell of her ear. His chest pressed to hers and brushed her stiff nipples in the process. The overwhelming sensations were intoxicating, and Hermione could have quickly become lost in the pleasure that he gave her. Guiding his face back to hers, she captured his lips once more.

It felt like her entire body was on fire, and only he could quench the flames. When she tugged his lower lip between her teeth and nipped it, Draco growled as he hips reflexively bucked into hers. That was when reality crashed over them both and he pulled back. His eyes were dark with need, his lips swollen and reddened from her ministrations, and the pale skin of his neck and face was coloured a lovely rosy hue.

"I don't want to stop, but—" Draco trailed off, but she knew what meant.

They were behaving far too inappropriately for such a public setting.

"We're needed soon for the meeting, anyway," she said.

After she untangled herself from his embrace, Draco set her back to her feet. One hand twined through the curls that hung at her lower back, and the other cupped her cheek as he planted a final kiss on her lips. It was so sweet it made Hermione dizzy.

"Before we get changed," he started. “There’s something we need to discuss."

Hermione nodded. She would have agreed to anything at that moment, as their noses brushed against each other and the pleasant sting of her lips served as a reminder of his kisses.

"I don't know how to say this—"

Her pulse quickened as anxiety spiked, her mind flying to the worst-case scenario. Was Draco going to tell her that he no longer wanted her, now that she had given herself to him freely? Or, maybe that he never really wanted her to begin with? She _was_ a bossy swot, and there were much prettier girls. She knew those things about herself. Hermione also knew the train of thought was rather illogical, given the way he so eagerly responded to her kisses, but... 

"—I want us to...be together."

Her racing thoughts screeched to a halt.

"Together?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Outside of the arrangement our fathers have, I thought we might have something between the two of us."

"You want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Merlin, I've turned into a Hufflepuff," he groaned, tearing his gaze from her and moved towards the garment bags that had fallen on the ground.

"Wait, Draco, wait." Hermione caught his arm and tugged insistently until he faced her once more. "Do you want to date me?"

"I know it seems silly, all things considered—"

"It's not silly. Ask me properly." She flashed him an encouraging smile.

Draco paused to study her for a moment before returning her grin. "Will you be my girlfriend, Granger?"

"Yes, but you're going to have to stop calling me that."

He laughed. "Doubtful, but nice try."

* * *

With a petulant sigh, Draco laid his head on the library desk. It was barely the start of the term, and Hermione was already a ball of nervous energy over their coursework. The O.W.L exams were nearly an entire school year away, yet his studious girlfriend wouldn't let that deter her from beginning preparations. If Draco wanted to spend time with her, which he did, then he was along for the ride.

"How much longer?" 

If he sounded like a testy child, it was of little consequence to him.

"I already told you. We'll study for two more hours and then stop for the night."

Hermione didn't even look up from the parchment before her.

"I can't believe this is how you want to spend your birthday," he muttered.

It was her _birthday_ , and Hermione still insisted on spending almost the entire day in the library. Though he knew it was _her_ idea of a good time, Draco had other plans in mind.

"Well, believe it. I'll have plenty more birthdays to celebrate, whereas O.W.L.s can only be taken once."

"Technically—"

"I don't care about technicalities, Malfoy! Stop your complaining and finish up your essay."

She only called him by his surname when she was truly irate. A smarter man might have retreated. Instead, Draco forged ahead.

"You're just peevish because Snape thought my adjusted method was more successful than your rigid, by-the-book techniques in class today."

"That man has always blatantly favoured you, and you know it!"

Draco shrugged. "Or, maybe I'm just better at Potions than you are."

"I'm still at the top of the class," she responded in her most swotty tone.

"For now. Just wait until I _really_ apply myself, Granger."

She glowered at him until he picked his quill back up and began to write again. After another half an hour, though, not even her browbeating could convince him to keep working.

Standing and stretching his arms above his head, Draco watched through his lashes as Hermione's eyes darted appreciatively to his biceps before drifting down to his torso. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too difficult to convince. He circled the table to stand behind her chair.

"Draco, what—"

"Shhh, just relax."

His hands rested on her shoulders, waiting for her to melt into him. After several more beats, she did. Draco grinned as his fingers began to knead into the muscles of her upper back and neck. A tiny mewl escaped her when he found a particularly stiff knot and massaged it until the tension released.

He leaned over her so that his lips brushed her ear. "You've been working too hard." His hands drifted down to stroke the muscles of her arms.

"One of us has to," she said.

Fingers drifted to the ticklish spot on her ribs that she had since they were kids.

"I work hard when it's worth my time."

"So just when you're on the pitch then."

"I know you love to leer when I'm on my broom."

Hermione gasped and jerked away from his fingers. "I do not!"

"You do, and you have for years. Don't try and pretend otherwise."

"I'm too busy worrying about your safety to be able to appreciate anything," she said.

"Aw, Granger, you worry about me?"

"Merlin, you're incorrigible. Of course, I suffer each time you fly. Ever since that accident at the Manor—"

"Or, as I like to think of it, one of the best days of my life."

"Was it the nearly breaking your neck that makes it such a fond memory?"

"No, obviously not." He chuckled. "But, it got you to cry over me."

Hermione twisted in her seat, her eyes burning as she opened her mouth to retort. He didn't give her a chance to. Leaning forward to capture her mouth with his, Draco sank his fingers into her wild curls and kissed her soundly.

"Stop arguing with me. It's your birthday," he said against her lips.

"Shouldn't that mean you should concede?"

Draco smirked. "In your dreams."

Before she could turn back to her studying, he pulled her chair away from the table. With a wave of his wand, her books and parchment piled themselves neatly into her schoolbag. Another flick of the Hawthorne wood and his materials did the same. He hung both bags on his shoulder before hauling Hermione to her feet. Lacing his fingers through hers, Draco led her towards the library exit.

"Where are we going?"

"I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?"

"Draco..."

"Don't worry, Granger. No money was spent, just as I promised."

He thought it was a bit ridiculous that she insisted he not spend any money on a gift. Hermione claimed she had everything she could possibly want, but Draco wasn't convinced. He knew for a fact that there were books she hadn't read that Hermione wanted. Despite his misgivings, he intended to respect her wishes.

Satisfaction bloomed when he glanced down at her to see the gold 'H' glinting in the low light. The fact that she never went without it was a source of pride for him. Even if she wasn't a girl who craved tangible proof of affection, her attachment to the necklace was evident.

Once they were betrothed, he planned to spoil her rotten, but for now, he would settle on doing something nice for her. They wound through the castle until arriving at the Prefect bathroom.

"A bath?"

"Ten points to Slytherin."

"I don't understand."

"I booked the room for you so you can relax. You're brilliant, Granger. You'll pass the O.W.L.s so spectacularly that you'll have your pick of whatever subjects you want to continue studying. Professors will be _begging_ you to take their courses."

"You don't know that." 

Her voice was small and timid, so unlike the fierce witch, Draco knew her to be. He opened the door and guided her through.

"Yes, I do. I've known you since we were in nappies. You get whatever you want, whenever you want it. There's nothing your mind can't accomplish."

The brilliant smile that flashed across her face made his heart sing.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Draco."

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she drew his face down to meet hers for a kiss. Draco could get lost in the way her lips felt, soft and pliant against his. He was addicted to the little noises she made when he nipped her bottom lip or traced his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

He wanted more, he wanted all of her, but it was up to him to stop them before it progressed too far.

"Not yet, love," he said when she whined as he pulled back. 

His throaty tone was foreign to his ears. The way she affected his body never ceased to amaze him.

Her brows furrowed. "When?"

"After the contract. Our parents will kill us if anything happens before. As much as I want you, we need to be patient."

"So, I can't convince you to stay." 

The way her lips twisted into a pout shook his resolve momentarily before Draco regained control of himself.

"I think we both know how terrible of an idea that would be."

"Breaking rules could be fun," she said.

Her eyes glinted mischievously. Draco released a tired sigh as he turned to start the faucets.

"If you were referring to anything else, I would agree. When it comes to you, I want to do everything exactly the way we're supposed to. I refuse to risk it."

Once he was certain the bath was to her liking, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and bolted instead of jeopardising either of them any further.

* * *

Hermione strolled alongside Draco as they patrolled the halls. They were nearing the end of their route, and she was ready to be back in the dungeons. The year was becoming increasingly stressful as she balanced schoolwork, her Prefect duties, and the budding relationship with Draco.

"Granger?" Draco said.

The look on his face told her that he had been trying to get her attention, probably for several minutes. Hermione knew she was distracted. She often allowed her thoughts to drift as she mentally rehearsed and recited the knowledge learnt in classes throughout the day.

"Nott." She knew it was hopeless, but she wouldn't stop correcting him.

As suspected, he ignored her. "Are Nott and Potter a thing?"

"No, I already told you that Harry and I are just friends."

Draco pinned her against the wall with a low growl at her impertinence. As if he had any room to talk. Maybe if he didn't still insist on calling her by the wrong surname, she wouldn't feel the need to be so cheeky.

"Are your _brother_ and Scar-head together?"

He hovered over her as his hand cushioned her head from the cold, hard stones of the castle.

"Why? Are you interested in Theo? Maybe Harry?"

"No. I have a girlfriend." 

His lips touched hers briefly before she pushed him away.

" _If_ that's true - and I did say if, seeing as any girl that dates you would have to be a saint to put up with your sass - I don't think said mystery girl would appreciate you kissing your fellow Prefect in the hall."

"Well, if she doesn't want me snogging other girls then maybe she should take more breaks from studying to kiss me herself."

Draco tried once more to capture her lips, but Hermione quickly dodged and slid out from his grasp. Her hands perched on her hips and she glared at him imperiously. 

"Are you telling me that you kiss other girls because I'm too busy furthering my educational pursuits?"

He laughed and stalked towards her until her back was to the opposite wall. "Don't be ridiculous."

His hands drifted to her waist before wrapping around to settle on her lower back. Though he held her firmly against his body, she knew Draco would release her at the slightest indication she was uncomfortable. Despite her annoyance at him, she had no intention of doing so. She rather liked the way his lithe frame felt pressed against hers.

"When would I have time to kiss anyone other than you, pretty witch?"

Hermione frowned but found her ire slowly dissipate when his lips brushed against the column of her neck.

"Between the course load this year, Quidditch practice, Prefect duties, and the insane study schedule that you've forced on me, it's a miracle I even have the energy to kiss _you_."

His hot breath grazed her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"But, even if I did have time and energy, which I don't, you're the only one I want. Surely you know that. You are at the top of our class for the fifth year running, after all."

He nipped at the spot below her ear as he slotted his body against hers.

Hermione wrapped herself around him. Her hands traced the firm planes of his back. She longed to feel his skin against her fingertips, but she knew the moment they breached that barrier, there would be no turning back. There was a temptation to reach down and palm the tight globes or his bum, but she resisted. Throughout her exploration of his body, she refused to turn her head towards his.

Of course, she knew Draco wanted her. She suspected that he would spend hours snogging her if she didn't keep them on task. Still, it was hard to remain entirely reasonable when he was involved.

The jealous glances and whispers from other girls were impossible to ignore, and Hermione was painfully aware that there were many, _many_ witches he could have, if only Draco said the word. She saw the way Romilda, Lavender, and Parvarti ogled him. Astoria, despite being Daphne's younger sister, clearly had a massive crush on Draco. Hermione didn't blame any of them. He was handsome, smart, funny, and obscenely wealthy.

Becoming the next Lady Malfoy was a position coveted by many. Hermione knew she was fortunate.

Further, she wasn't immune to the gossip that Draco was only making the best of a forced arrangement. In truth, there were times when she still wondered whether he was only drawn to her because they had been pushed together since birth.

She buried her face in his chest as her hands clenched the back of his shirt. Draco continued to mouth at her neck, as his hips shifted against hers. However, when she didn't respond to his attentions, he pulled back.

A finger under her chin guided her to face him, and Hermione blinked back the tears that were prickling at the corners of her eyes.

She was acting so foolishly. There she was, wrapped in the arms of the boy all the girls wanted, and she was throwing away the opportunity to kiss him senseless.

"Look at me, Granger."

Her eyes flew to meet his in a flash of fury. "Draco, for the love of Morgana, it's Nott—"

"There you are." He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "What's wrong? Are you worried about the exams again?"

Hermione shook her head and dropped her gaze. There was no reason for her to doubt or distrust him. Since they decided to become a couple officially, he was utterly attentive and devoted to her.

His fingers wrapped around her chin once more.

"Tell me what's wrong, then." 

His lips brushed against hers with every word.

"It's nothing."

"It's obviously something."

"I'm just acting stupidly."

"Now _that_ I very much doubt."

"Just leave it, Draco."

She pushed him away and began to resume their route when his fingers caught her wrist. Her back collided with his chest, and he wound his larger frame around hers. They walked in-step, as Draco propelled her forward.

The growth spurt he went through over the past summer made it so that he was now a head taller than her, but sometimes it was easy to forget.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said again. 

She sighed. "It just feels sometimes like you're too good for me."

It was easier to yield to his request when he wasn't facing her. Still, when she felt Draco stiffen behind her, regret bloomed in her chest at her candour.

"You think I'm the one who's settling?"

"Everyone does."

"Who's everyone?" His voice was low, _dangerous_.

"Not everyone. Not any of our friends," she quickly amended. "Just some, well, a lot of the girls in the other Houses."

"They're wrong."

Hermione turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"And you've just decided that, have you?"

"Yes. I'm lucky you even looked twice at an insufferable little ferret, like me."

Her nose wrinkled. "Someone called you a ferret?"

" _You_ did, Granger. Back in Fourth Year, when I was messing with your precious Potter."

"Hmm, I don't recall. Did you deserve it?"

"You and I both know I did. Come here."

Draco pulled at her shoulders until she fully faced him, and then he wrapped his arms around her in a smothering hug.

"Anyone who thinks I'm better than you is an idiot. You're included in that statement," he said.

"I can't believe you just called me an idiot." 

His chest muffled her face, but the rumbling laughter that shook his frame told Hermione he heard her perfectly.

"Don't act like one and I won't call you one. Now, come on, let's finish this blasted patrol so I can watch you read in the Common Room."

Hermione huffed in irritation but followed Draco closely as they finished their rounds.

* * *

Holding the Snitch firmly in his grasp, Draco landed on the grass with a dull thud. His teammates soon followed, swarming around him in a frenzy of wild, unadulterated ecstasy. The match against Gryffindor was close, but in the end, Draco beat Harry by a hair to secure the victory for his House.

An emerald wave of students poured from the stands to join in the celebration, but Draco only cared about one Slytherin. He stood tall to study the crowd, but Hermione wasn't among them. Draco could recognise her distinctive thick curls anywhere. If she were among the Slytherins swarming the field, he would find her.

He turned to search the mob behind him, only for a miniature ball of energy to collide into his chest. His witch threw herself into his embrace and twined her legs around his body. With one arm supported her slight frame, while the other held his broom in hand. 

"Congratulations, Draco!"

The din of the crowd nearly drowned out her voice, but the huge smile she wore as she looked down at him was unmistakable. She kissed him chastely before snaking her arms around his neck and hugging him.

"You flew so well." She spoke against his ear.

"You don't know a single thing about flying."

"Yes, but I do know that whatever you did was spectacular."

Lowering herself back to the pitch, Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist while Draco slung his over her shoulder. Together, they allowed the force of the crowd to drive them forward until Draco parted with her to go to the locker rooms. There would be an extravagant celebration in the Common Room, but first, he needed to debrief with his team and shower.

When Draco finally made it back to the castle, he was greeted by a crowd of excited Slytherin students all clamouring to congratulate him. A glass of Elvish mead was thrust into his hand. One of the older students must have smuggled in alcohol in anticipation of the celebration.

Several boys patted him firmly on the back and shoulder. Draco merely flashed an arrogant smile in response. In truth, he had been nervous for days before the match, but no one knew that other than Hermione.

There were a few, bolder girls who tried to slink up against him. It was beyond infuriating. While witches in other Houses might have few qualms about eyeing him despite his relationship, Slytherins were meant to be loyal to one another. He pushed the girls away as politely and firmly as possible before catching Theo's attention.

"Where's Granger?" Draco asked.

Theo rolled his eyes before nodding towards the far wall. He appeared to be leaving the Common Room, probably to comfort Harry on his loss. Draco followed the motion to find Hermione curled in a chair by the windows looking out into the lake.

She was wearing one of his jumpers to combat the chill of the room. It hung almost to the hem of her school skirt. The sleeve was bunched up around one hand, while her other hand held a book. He grinned at the sight. Leave it up to Hermione to read while the rest of their House got drunk and went wild. She hated these raucous parties, which meant the only reason she was there was to wait for him. Draco sauntered over to her, but she didn't notice his approach. 

With a huff, he tore the book from her hands, marked the spot she was reading and dropped into her lap.

"Draco!"

Her voice was muted as he pressed his side into her. He could have sat there for ages, crushing her under his weight, but two cold fingers slid under his shirt to pinch him.

Jolting up to stand, he glared at her.

"What? You were squashing me." 

Her doe eyes widened in the perfect picture of innocence.

"I'll get you back for that, witch," he growled.

She laughed. "We'll see."

Enveloping her hand in his, Draco drew Hermione to her feet. He led her back towards the dormitories, steering her insistently towards the boys' rooms.

"I can't be back here!" Hermione squeaked in protest when she realised their destination.

"Why not? Nott went to find Potter, Zabini is undoubtedly already preoccupied with Greengrass, and Crabbe and Goyle will sleep in the Common Room."

She remained rooted in the same spot. "Draco—"

"C'mon, Granger. Consider it my present."

Hermione scoffed. "Your present for what?"

Turning back to her, Draco folded his arms around heer.

"For winning the match," he responded with a grin. "If you’re not ready for it, though—" 

"I am! I just don’t want to get in trouble."

She began worrying her lip between her teeth and Draco could see the signs of her overthinking the situation. He freed her lip with a brush of his thumb, and placed a chaste kiss on the reddened skin.

"I promise, it’ll be okay. Do you trust me?"

Relief flooded through him when she tilted onto her toes to kiss him again.

"I trust you more than anything," she whispered against his lips. "Let’s go."

Before he knew it, they were on his bed. It was something he had fantasised about for ages, but now that it was actually happening, Draco froze. Fortunately, once Hermione confirmed the room was clear, she seemed much more at ease.

Taking charge, she drew the curtains of his bed around them and cast a Silencing charm. She pushed Draco onto his back and straddled him. It was the same position they found themselves in many times. Their snogging sessions often progressed to her in his arms up against the wall. Or, with him between her legs, while she perched on a desk. Only now he was prone on the mattress, and she hovered above him. That made all the difference. 

Unfortunately, he didn't have his robes in which to hide his erection.

She held herself on her knees to hover above him, but the position still revealed more of her legs that he usually caught glimpses of. The curls he loved so much hung around them both like a curtain as Hermione surged forward to claim his mouth. When her teeth caught his lip, a low growl escaped him. Hermione pulled back to study him, and Draco saw her eyes were dark with need.

"Can I put my hands here?"

His hands barely skimmed her thighs. She nodded. Another groan slipped from his lips when his fingers finally made contact with her warm skin.

"Higher?"

She nodded again. Draco's hands trailed up the backs of her thighs before stopping right below her bum. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as she sunk into his hold, sliding his hands to cover her bottom entirely. When her core accidentally grazed his cock, he saw stars. He used his grip on her to guide Hermione to sit in his lap fully. The soft moan from above him made him twitch in his pants. His hands settled on her hips and he began to gently rocked her back and forth.

"Draco? Your wand is poking me."

"My wand?"

"Yes. Can you take it out of your pocket?"

His eyes flew open. Gods, she was asking about his dick, wasn’t she?

"That’s not my wand, Granger," he choked out.

She crossed her arms and sat up with a huff. "I can _feel_ it—"

Draco followed and wrapped her in an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. His mind scrambled for a way to explain, even as her innocence sent another jolt of arousal coursing through him.

"That's what you do to me. It's my—" He paused to search for the right word to avoid offending her with crude language. "It means you arouse me, love."

Understanding lit a fire in her bright, brown eyes. " _Oh_."

He expected her to turn bashful, but as always, she surprised him by crushing her lips to his once more. Hermione began to move her hips of her own volition, swallowing the subsequent groan that escaped him with every pass of her core against his erection.

Sometimes it felt like his desire for her threatened to consume him. He wanted nothing more than to have her _completely._ He intended to wait until she was ready, though. For the moment, he would take whatever she was willing to give.


	9. Sixth Year

"Oi, Hermione!"

The witch in question looked up to see Cormac strolling towards her.

With a heavy sigh, she slid her textbook back into her bag. Hermione was certain no good could come from his needing to speak with her, and to top it all off, he was _insufferable_ _._ She stood, regarding Cormac warily while he stopped in front of the bench where she was waiting for Draco.

"You're looking fit," Cormac said.

Over his shoulder, Draco approached with a glower reminiscent of their early years at the school.

She had hoped she could get rid of Cormac before Draco got there, but it seemed the fates were not smiling on her. Draco so easily became irate when other boys flirted with her, even though Hermione knew he trusted her and respected her ability to stave them off.

With a huff, she turned her attention back to the boy in front of her.

"How can I help you, Cormac?"

"Do you have a date yet for Sluggy's Christmas party?"

_Was that his idea of an invitation?_

Even if she was available and interested, it was hardly the proper way to ask.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I'm not attending that."

"Oh, well if you weren't invited, you can come with me—"

"I was invited. I'm choosing not to go," Hermione said. "And, if I were, I would be attending with Draco, my _boyfriend_."

"Are you two still a thing then?"

"Yes, Cormac," she said slowly, with a mirthless smile. "We're a bit more than a 'thing.'"

"I thought it was just a rumour that your fathers signed the contract."

Hermione shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."

The betrothal became official shortly after Draco's last birthday. It was discreet, as those types of arrangements often were. A few glasses of champagne were shared between the Notts and the Malfoys to celebrate. Otherwise, very little had happened to mark the occasion.

"It's but a small setback. Agreements can be broken." The shameless little prick had the audacity to wink.

That was apparently the last straw for Draco. He marched over to where she stood, shoving roughly past Cormac in the process. As his hand settled on her hip, Draco scowled at the other wizard but remained silent.

"I don't know what kind of agreements your lot gets involved in, but the Notts are true to our word. In any case, Cormac, I'd rather throw myself into a lake than go to that insipid party with you. Or rather, than to go _anywhere_ with you."

She arched her brow, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot as she watched him process all that she said. When the realisation of her insult finally dawned, his face twisted into an angry frown. 

He began to walk away, but only made it several paces before he muttered, "Fuck you, too, you stuck-up bitch."

Hermione was ready to let it go and carry on with her day, but Draco had other plans in mind. He charged after Cormac, seized him by the shoulder and spun him back to face them. 

"What did you say to her?" Draco snarled.

"I called her a _bitch_. You should do a better job of keeping her on a leash."

A resounding crack of bone against bone filled the hallway as Draco connected his fist with Cormac's nose.

"If I ever hear you disrespect Hermione like that again..."

The remainder of the threat was left unsaid as Draco sent Cormac to the ground to wallow in his own blood. His entire body vibrated with rage as he stalked back to where Hermione silently watched the exchange. Draco pulled her close against his side and continued walking, never once looking back despite the obscenities Cormac spewed at their backs.

When they were a safe enough distance away, Hermione tugged him into an unused classroom. Forcing Draco down into one of the chairs, she perched on the desk in front of him and reached for his hand.

"You shouldn't have hit him." Her voice was soft as she ran her fingers along the broken skin. 

Reaching for her wand, Hermione began to heal the shallow cuts and blooming bruises methodically. His long fingers wrapped around her hand as she worked.

"He shouldn't have said what he did."

"I don't care about him or what he thinks of me."

"Still, no one will speak poorly of you when I'm around."

Draco drew her forward and into his lap, his hand good as new.

"I can defend myself, you know," she said, pressing her lips to his.

"I know. You look good doing it, too, my fierce, beautiful witch."

His tongue swiped against the seam of her mouth.

"Not as good as you looked when you knocked him flat on his bum."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him more tightly and deepened the kiss. Strong hands slid up her thighs and underneath her skirt before settling at the apex of her legs.

"I would do anything for you. I would kill for you if it came to that."

She smiled against his lips. "Let's hope it doesn't. I'd rather not have to visit you in Azkaban."

Draco hummed before dragging her hips and sitting up to press himself to her more fully.

The room filled with the sounds of her sighs and his quiet noises of approval as they got their fill of one another. When Draco traced kisses along her jaw and neck, she rolled her hips against him. Hermione wanted him.

She wanted _more_.

His thumb toyed with the hem of her knickers. "Can I?"

It was as if he read her mind. Leaning back to study his face, Hermione nodded. A soft keen escaped her when he slipped beneath the fabric to brush his thumb where she needed him so desperately.

Draco buried his face in her hair before turning to suck a red mark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"Gods. Is it always this wet?" 

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see. 

"Only if I'm thinking about you or we're snogging..."

"Do you ever touch yourself like this?"

"S-Sometimes."

Draco groaned thickly and it sent a jolt of pleasure down her spine.

"Show me what to do."

Hermione covered his hand with hers and guided him to the tiny bud that made her fall apart. He watched her intently with glazed eyes and parted lips as she moved his thumb in the tight, circular motion she discovered the summer before.

Always the quick study when it came to subjects he cared about, Draco soon found the perfect pace and pressure she needed. The heady sensation of his skin against hers was better than she could have ever imagined. Leaning into him, Hermione captured his lips as his ministrations drove her closer to the edge.

Hardly any time passed before she fell apart with a whimper, one that he swallowed greedily before shifting back to examine her expression. Just as his hand pushed further into her knickers, a door slamming down the hall broke the spell.

Horror travelled through her veins at lightning speed and replaced the pleasure that coursed through her just moments ago.

"We forgot to lock the door," Hermione squeaked. 

She slid out of his lap and began to smooth her hair.

"No amount of combing is going to work, Granger. You look like you've been thoroughly debauched."

He was still watching her with hooded eyes, seemingly unbothered by the idea of being caught in such a compromising position. His face was flushed, his hair was in disarray, and his thumb gleamed with her arousal. Mortification crawled across her skin as he brought it to his face to inspect it before slipping the digit into his mouth.

"Draco, stop, just wipe it on your robes!" 

Hermione lunged forward and popped the thumb from his mouth. 

"Why would I do that?" he asked.

"Why _wouldn't_ you do that?"

"I was curious about how you tasted."

She groaned. _"Oh, sweet Morgana."_

"You're delicious, by the way." He flashed her an impish smirk. "In case you were wondering." 

"Just stop talking, please." 

Despite her reprimand, it was impossible to hide the smile that spread across her face.

* * *

Draco stood by the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. He adjusted the sleeves and collar of his dark grey dress robes to stop himself from pacing as he waited for her.

When their friends departed minutes ago, Daphne informed him that Hermione said he should go ahead, but Draco refused to leave without her. If she took all night getting ready, so be it. The only reason he even cared about attending at all was because of her.

Soft steps from the hallway heralded her arrival. Draco spun, eager to see her, and it took every ounce of self-control not to gape. Instead, he teased at the skin of his lower lip between his teeth as he took the time to drink her in.

Hermione was a vision in a silver Muggle dress. The fitted top and cinched waist allowed Draco a glimpse at her figure, while the flowing skirt was adorned with intricate beading.

"What is it?" she asked, stopping before him.

He swallowed audibly and blinked several times. Every time his eyes opened, he was still met by the sight of his brilliant witch. Her brows furrowed in concern at his continued silence.

"Draco? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Granger." He coughed. "You just look—"

"Oh, Merlin. I look ridiculous, don't I? Daphne was so insistent that I get it when we were in Paris, but I knew this absurd dress was too much!" 

She twisted her hands together anxiously, and a curl escaped from her updo to fall across her face.

"Slow down," he murmured, reaching up to tuck the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I was going to say, you look stunning."

Holding her face in his hand, he bent his head to press a kiss to her lips. Her hands clutched the front of his robes, and she met his mouth insistently. Encircling her in his other arm, Draco pulled her as close as he dared without disturbing her dress.

"I'm so lucky you're mine."

She sighed contentedly. "The feeling is mutual."

"I have a gift for you. An early Christmas present."

Hermione watched him warily as he slid his hand into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a black velvet box. Flipping open the lid, he presented it to her for her inspection.

The soft gasp that escaped her as the gold signet ring glinted in the light of the fire made his heart sing.

"Oh, Draco, I can't possibly accept this!" 

Her fingers brushed against the cool metal before flying to her mouth.

"I won't propose until you say we're ready, but I was hoping you might wear this until I replace it with a gemstone worthy of my witch."

Unshed tears shone in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

She extended her hand, and he slid the ring onto her left index finger. The ancient protective magic imbued in the jewellery hummed as the band resized to her dainty measurements.

Hermione gazed at for a moment longer before turning to look at him once more.

"Thank you, Draco. I love it."

A bright smile spread across his face as he extended his arm.

"Shall we?"

Settling her hand snuggly in the crook of his elbow, Hermione returned the grin with a radiant one of her own. Draco led her through the castle, a smug sense of satisfaction blooming in his chest at the envious looks he received.

They _should_ be jealous of him.

The witch on his arm was not only the loveliest in the whole castle, she was also the smartest. 

His ring was wrapped around her finger.

When they reached the grand staircase that led down to the ball, Draco stepped forward. His fingers brushed the small of her back as he settled a hand there to steady her. His other hand extended in front of her to guide her down the steps.

Hermione twined her fingers through his as they reached the base of the stairs, and together they entered the Great Hall.

Although they attended the Yule Ball together the previous year, the relationship was still fresh. Now, with the confidence that time and a contract between their families brought about, Draco felt as though he was able to enjoy it thoroughly.

Hermione immediately led him to the dance floor, and she settled gracefully into his embrace. Together, they fell into the steps they had practised since they were children. She always had a better talent for the ballroom dances their tutors taught them. Still, he moved through the choreography with ease.

It was the benefit of having a dance partner who was a natural, and moved perfectly in sync with him. He looked good just by proximity alone.

As he spun her round and round, and the silver detailing on her dress glittered gold in the candlelight. Draco never really fancied himself as someone who enjoyed dancing, but with her, he could dance for the entire night.

Thankfully, she insisted they abandon the dance floor to make their rounds through the crowd of their peers and greet their friends. Even more fortuitously, Hermione agreed to leave the party altogether soon after.

With her hand slotted in his, she took the lead as they escaped the heat and noise of the room.

It wasn't until they were in the hallway that she released her hold on him. Lifting her skirts so as not to trip, Hermione gave him a mischievous grin before she sprinted away from him and back towards the dungeon.

In his shock, Draco allowed her a lead before he quickly followed.

They were just nearing the stairwell leading down towards their Common Room when he caught Hermione around the waist and hoisted her into his arms. Despite her squeaks in protest, he carried her into an alcove that was partially hidden by one of the castle's tapestries.

His lips descended on hers immediately. Hermione tugged at the buttons of his dress robes and shirt. Her hands slid along the planes of his torso, and her cold fingers against his skin caused him to shiver.

When her mouth followed the trail with hot, wet kisses, he trembled again, but for an entirely different reason.

Draco fell forward to lean against the wall behind her when Hermione's fingers reached the waist of his trousers. As her nimble digits undid the button and zipper to slide beneath the cloth, he wondered whether he was dreaming.

Her movements were tentative and unsure, but still sublime. Nothing Draco had ever felt in his life was comparable. When her mouth sought his once more, he readily crushed his lips to hers.

A small whimper escaped her when she wrapped her fingers around his length. If it weren't for the wall supporting him, Draco might have dropped to his knees. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as she watched him with a dark gaze. She was studying his reactions intently.

"Teach me how to touch you," she whispered. "I want to do it right."

"Always the swot." In case the fondness in his tone wasn't evident, Draco brushed a kiss to her nose. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, Draco. I'm sure. Please, show me."

He bit back a groan as her wrist twisted experimentally, her soft fingers gliding up and down as if she were memorising how he felt in her hand.

"A little tighter."

When she followed his instruction immediately, white spots flashed across his vision. Her hand felt incredible.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Perfect." His voice was low and husky.

It _was_ absolutely perfect, just like her.

* * *

"Where are we going? Who gave you this cloak? What if—"

Draco cut her off with a kiss.

"You ask too many questions. Just trust me."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort before snapping it shut, electing to nod instead. He twined his fingers back through hers and continued to lead her through the halls. Since it was early Sunday morning, the chances of being caught out of their Common Room were unlikely.

Still, it did nothing to ease her anxiety as they made their way out of the castle and towards the boundaries of the school. She focused on the warmth of his hand around hers and ensuring the Silencing charm cast on their feet held.

Draco had also taken precautions in procuring what seemed to be a real invisibility cloak. Thousands of questions threatened to burst from her on that topic alone, but she stayed quiet.

When they finally made it past the wards, she heaved a sigh of relief. Draco slung the cloak off their shoulders and handed it to her. Wordlessly, Hermione folded it and placed it in her bag. It disappeared into the depths created by the Extension charm she discovered earlier in the year.

Draco pulled a small object from his pocket, only to mutter the spell that returned his broom to its standard size.

"Absolutely not," she said.

"Oh, come on, Granger. It'll be fun."

"There's nothing _fun_ about flying on that death trap."

"I'll keep you safe." 

He stepped into her and placed his hands on her arms. Draco began to rub his thumbs over the muscles of her shoulders. A soft kiss brushed against her forehead.

"You know I hate flying," she said into his chest.

"I know, but it's the fastest way to get there. I thought you never backed down from a challenge, but maybe I overestimated your fearlessness."

Hermione rested her chin on his chest to turn a withering glare at him.

"You still haven't told me where we're going."

He merely chuckled and kissed her nose.

"It's a surprise. Either you trust me, or we head back to the castle."

His lips slotted against hers, and he kissed her slowly, his tongue dipping into her mouth to taste her. He wasn't playing fair, using his sinful mouth to distract her. As usual, Hermione melted into his touch.

"I don't want to hear any complaints or snide remarks about how tightly I'm holding onto you. And no fancy tricks while we’re in the air."

"You have my word." He smirked down at her and sent her heart aflutter.

Draco released her from his embrace to straddle the broom, glancing over at her with a raised brow when she didn't immediately follow. With a huff, she mounted the broom behind him. Immediately wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his back.

"All set, love?"

Hermione groaned in response. 

Without giving her a chance to change her mind, Draco kicked off from the ground and sped away. She wasn't sure how long the ride was. Her attention was entirely directed on him.

The muscles of his abdomen under her hands and the intoxicating scent of his cologne soothed her.

When Hermione focused on him and the comfort he afforded whenever he was near, it was easier not to panic as the wind whipped around them. Still, she kept her eyes closed the entire time until the ground was once more beneath their feet.

The sudden change caused her to falter, and she held onto him more tightly as he tried to dismount. With some effort wiggled from her embrace and helped her off the broom.

"You can open your eyes now." 

Her hair muffled his voice as he repositioned them both. With her back to his chest and her arms slung around her torso, Hermione blinked back the bright sun reflecting from the loch. She gasped as recognition dawned on her, turning in his embrace to look at him.

"Is this Loch Ness?"

Draco smiled and nodded.

"I've wanted to come here since I was a child! My mother used to tell Theo and me about a Muggle myth of a monster that lives here."

"I remember," he said with a chuckle.

"The earliest discussions of a sighting date back to the late 1800s!"

She could have continued prattling facts about the lake and its legendary monster for ages, but instead, she flung her arms around Draco's shoulders and clung to him tightly.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Draco. I don't think the creature actually exists, of course, but how wonderful to be able to actualise one of the dreams my mother and I shared."

"Anything for you, Granger."

"What did you have planned for the day?"

"A picnic and possibly some exploration, if you're up for it."

He smiled down at her when she squealed with glee.

"Pipsey!" 

The house-elf immediately appeared

"Pipsey has the basket, and the blanket the young Master wanted."

"Thank you, Pipsey, this is perfect. I'll call you back this afternoon to collect them, alright?"

She practically vibrated with happiness at the praise before smiling at both Draco and Hermione and Disapparating with a pop.

Although Hermione tried to help, Draco insisted she investigate while he set out the items for their meal. They were near the ruins of an old castle that overlooked the lake. It was serenely beautiful in the early morning light.

The signs of Spring were everywhere, and though it was a bit cold, Hermione knew the sun would soon warm them. When she returned to where she left him, she found Draco lounging on a sprawling blanket, with all her favourite breakfast items around him.

They ate while she regaled him with the extensive history of the loch and its stories. Draco would ask follow-up questions from time to time, but he mostly seemed content to listen to her. He repacked the food, once they were fully satiated and Hermione lay back to gaze at the sky.

She was perfectly content in that moment and with the pleasure of an entire day to explore, she wasn't in any rush. Draco curled next to her, pressing kisses to her cheek and temple.

When Hermione twisted to meet his lips, he readily offered them. It was a leisurely, languid kiss as their lips pillowed against one another. He buried his hand in the curls at the nape of her neck before rolling above her. Though he bore the majority of his weight on his arms, Hermione relished the sensation of being covered by him.

She parted her legs in favour of wrapping them around him while her hands explored his lean frame. Running her fingers against the taut skin of his abdomen caused a spark of molten desire to pool in her core. As he rolled his hips against her, the heat spread through her veins.

Hermione brought her hands to his jaw. 

"Draco, I want you."

The grey of his irises was hardly visible as he studied her. He was achingly beautiful as the sun illuminated his tousled hair. His lips were slick and red where her teeth bit into them. 

A pained expression crossed his face. "We should wait." 

"How much longer?" she asked with a pout.

"As soon as we can do it properly."

"What does that even mean?"

Hermione knew she sounded petulant, but it was difficult to control. Since the contract was signed, she and Draco had grown bolder in their explorations.

Yet, they hadn't gone all the way and there was an ache that threatened to consume her. Hermione wasn't entirely sure what would satiate it. All she knew was that Draco held the answer.

"I'm not sure..." He sighed. "Just know I want you just as badly."

Draco caressed her lips with his, a promise that more was to come, but only when the moment was right.

* * *

Professor Binns droned on about some topic or another, as Draco listened with only a fraction of his attention. The rest of his focus was on his pretty witch who sat beside him scribbling away on her parchment.

He rested his elbow against the desk and propped his face on his hand. It was a more comfortable position for him to continue watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye.

Half of her rebellious curls were piled atop her head, held in place by her wand. Still, despite her best efforts, several coils had fallen forward and now brushed against her face.

He held her left hand with his right, beneath the desk and out of sight. Draco ran his fingers along her tiny knuckles, his thumb brushing across the signet ring she never took off. For a brief moment, he considered shifting closer, so that he could smooth his hand along the creamy skin of her leg, just below the skirt. It was too risky, though. 

Hermione might allow him to play with her hand or run his fingers through the tips of her curls. Yet, anything beyond innocent touches would earn her displeasure.

History of Magic was a snooze, but Hermione approached it with the same intensity that she brought to the rest of the coursework.

As it were, her eyes only left the parchment to study their professor intently. She didn't turn towards Draco once, not that he minded.

He was entirely content just watching her.

When the professor asked a question regarding the witch trials that occurred in the United States centuries before, Hermione's arm shot up into the air with more speed than a Snitch. 

Draco had to swallow a laugh. She was the only in the class who was paying even an ounce of attention. Still, she acted as though their peers would be clamouring to answer the question. He continued to rub his thumb across the ring as she began to share all her knowledge on the topic.

Leave it up to Hermione to learn not only the magical history of Britain but also of an entirely different country.

He loved the way her hair crackled with magic and the way her cheeks were coloured a lovely rosy hue when she got excited. If Hermione were teaching the class, it would be so much easier to pay attention to the lecture. Draco would forever be entranced by the way her eyes shone when she was passionate about a topic. 

With her free hand, Hermione gesticulated as she emphasised several well thought out points. She argued that while the No-Maj population of Massachusetts was clearly in the wrong, the actions of one community could hardly be attributed to all No-Majs, and by extension Muggles, as a whole.

Professor Binns cut her off before she could continue on a rant that was sure to devolve into another subject entirely.

"Yes, thank you, Miss Nott. But, I believe I merely asked what year the trials occurred...a question I'm not sure you answered."

Draco smirked at Hermione's gaping expression, using her momentary shock to raise his hand lazily.

"Mister Malfoy?"

"The trials occurred in 1692 and 1693."

"Excellent! Five points to Slytherin."

"Oh, for the love of Morgana," Hermione muttered.

She yanked her fingers from him with force and settled it on her lap, rebuffing every attempt he made to reclaim her hand with an angry glare. When the class let out, Hermione stalked away, still grumbling under her breath.

Draco ignored the annoyed look she flashed him when he approached. He took her bag from her shoulder and slung it over his own, before sliding his arm around her waist. The rest of their friends soon convened outside the class, and together they walked to the Great Hall.

"I'm surprised your parchment wasn't covered in drool, from the way you were gawking at Hermione," Blaise said as he came alongside the pair.

"Draco wasn't staring at me, Blaise," Hermione said. "He was too busy stealing my points."

"Is it really stealing if the points go to Slytherin either way?" Draco asked.

Hermione scowled at him before twisting out of his hold and speeding up to walk next to Daphne. Blaise merely watched the scene with a look of amusement as Theo fell into step alongside the boys.

"Trouble in paradise, then? Blaise asked.

Draco scoffed. "Hardly."

"You know Hermione gets competitive about school-related stuff," Theo said.

"How would you know, Nott?" Draco asked. "I thought you were too busy making eyes at _someone_ to notice much else."

"I've had the fortune of watching you two bicker and compete for years before _someone_ ever caught my attention," Theo deadpanned.

"Oh, we all know you have a thing for Potter, no need to be coy about it," Blaise said with an exasperated sigh.

"Anyway, she is my sister, so I think I would know a bit about her. Just because she spends all her free time with you doesn't suddenly make her a stranger," Theo said.

The conversation ended as they arrived at the hall, and all took their seats at the Slytherin table. Theo sat next to Hermione on her right, and Draco claimed her other side. Vincent and Gregory materialised, seemingly from thin air. Daphne slid in across from Hermione, and Blaise sat beside her.

Draco leaned in and spoke softly so only Hermione could hear. 

"Are you done being mad at me?"

She ignored him and reached for the bowl of rolls.

"You know, Granger, if you ever get tired of Malfoy trying to show you up..." Blaise said with a playful grin. "I've never been one to keep a witch from shining to her full potential."

Draco scooted as close to her as he could without the risk of getting hexed before glaring at his _former_ friend in silent rebuke. He couldn't chance speaking out, lest Hermione became more annoyed at him. But, if looks could kill...

"Blaise, as much I appreciate your attempt to rile Draco further, we all know you're head-over-heels for Daph. If you only had the... _guts..._ to try and make it official." 

Hermione smiled at Blaise sweetly while the rest of their group coughed back laughter. Blaise gaped at her before whipping his head towards Daphne. She arched her brow as if waiting for him to disagree.

The two had been dancing around one another for ages, but everyone knew that Blaise was going to have to make the first move. Regardless of how empowered Hermione and Daphne were as witches, specific protocols had to be observed. 

Draco might have felt a twinge of sympathy for the other boy if it weren't for Blaise's most recent attempt to provoke him. Despite being a pureblood, he wasn't a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Beyond all the inane courting rituals observed by their society in general, both Draco and Theo knew there were added expectations of them both, ones that Blaise likely didn't know.

Still, he didn't have time for Blaise's problems. Draco turned back towards Hermione, who was celebrating the outcome of the exchange with a bite of mashed potatoes. She beamed down at her plate, undoubtedly pleased that two of their friends might finally act on their feelings.

When he reached out to take her hand in his, she let him. By then, the rest of the group was appropriately distracted. Yet, even if every eye were on them, Draco wouldn't have bothered to hide the grin that spread across his face. He leaned towards her and relief spread through him when she instinctively shifted closer towards him

"I'm sor—" he started softly.

"No, Draco, I'm sorry."

The shock of her apology momentarily left him speechless.

"What for?"

"I'm not used to having anyone in the class to contend with, and now that you're applying yourself, it's a bit of an adjustment.” She smiled at him sheepishly. “I had no right getting angry, though. Will you forgive me?"

Draco leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"No one will ever be as smart as you, love."


	10. Seventh Year

Hermione set two cups of tea on the table and collapsed into her boyfriend's lap with a contented sigh. The common area of the Heads' dormitory only had one couch, which was already occupied by Theo and Harry. She didn't mind. Hermione preferred to be snuggled close to Draco while he sat in the armchair. Resting her head against his shoulder, she burrowed further into his embrace as his wrapped an arm around her back.

When Hermione and Harry had been chosen to act as Head Boy and Girl, she was elated. It was an honour to be selected from the Seventh Year students, and she knew it would reflect well on her as she prepared for graduation and the world beyond Hogwarts. It also helped that she would be able to serve in the position with her close friend. Harry was pleasant company, and he didn't make a fuss over Draco's constant presence in their shared dormitory. 

Further, Harry's relationship with Theo meant that she would also see her brother often, since the two boys finally decided to make their relationship official over the summer. Although they danced around one another for long before then, Theo didn't want to commit himself wholeheartedly until after he had spoken with their father. Hermione accompanied him for moral support, but they were both pleasantly surprised to find that Theodore hardly made an issue of it.

While same-sex relationships weren't entirely unheard of among pureblood circles, her brother was the Nott heir. As such, there was the matter of carrying on the bloodline that Hermione assumed her father would consider. However, there were other options available for future children, and Theodore appeared to try and keep an open mind. Their father told them both that family was more important above all else. It was a value Theodore developed after marrying Helene, even if he might have lost sight of it after her death and his subsequent withdrawal from the children. However, their father was trying his best to rectify his past mistakes and he would do anything to stay in their lives.

Hemione looked across the sitting area to see her brother smiling at Harry. The love in his eyes shone brightly, and Hermione couldn't be happier for both of them.

She turned to Draco, who was looking up at her and leaned her face down to kiss him.

"This year couldn't be any more perfect," she said to no one in particular.

"It would be more perfect if we won the Quidditch Cup for the third year in a row," Draco said.

He smirked lazily before twining his fingers through her curls at the nape of her neck and pulling her to him for another kiss. She felt his tongue brush across her lips just as Harry let out an indignant squawk.

"We said no funny business in the common areas!"

"Kissing is hardly funny business, Potter," Draco responded.

His eyes never left Hermione, even as his hand inched further up her leg.

"We might actually win it this year," Harry ventured, in last-ditch effort to distract Draco from Hermione.

Draco and Theo merely chuckled to themselves at the proclamation, and Theo patted Harry's hand in a consoling manner.

"There's a greater chance of You-Know-Who returning," Draco said.

A hushed, strained somberness fell on the group as Draco realised the gravity of his offhanded remark. Hermione tensed in his lap, hoping he would correct the error.

"That is to say... Well, I... Fuck, I'm sorry, Potter. I didn't mean to be insensitive," Draco offered.

"It's okay. You didn't mean anything by it." Harry flashed the group a small grin. "And, if you did, Hermione would hex your bollocks off."

"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if You-Know-Who weren't defeated? Or, if he found some way to come back?" Theo asked quietly. "Would we all still be friends? Would our lives be as simple as Quidditch matches and worrying about N.E.W.T.s?"

"There were rumours that he took measures to ensure he couldn't die. Some say he attempted to explore the Dark Arts as a means of achieving immortality," Hermione said. 

Her voice was soft, but it carried in the silence that filled the room.

"I thought that theory was disproved," Draco said.

"Dumbledore _has_ gone to great lengths to assure the wizarding public that there's no validity to the speculation, hasn't he?" Hermione said as she shifted to look at him. "I think there's more to the story, though."

"I've always wondered why our fathers didn't end up in Azkaban, like your aunt and her husband," Theo said to Draco.

"Sirius told me it was because they helped the other side," Harry replied.

"That's probably true," Hermione said. 

Theo nodded his head in agreement. "Meeting our mother had a profound impact on our father."

"And, in turn, I think both of them greatly influenced my parents' views on You-Know-Who, the war, and Muggles in general," Draco said.

"There could have been others, too. Others in his inner circle that they turned. Without his most affluential followers, I imagine Voldemort might have a difficult time coming back," Harry said.

The other three flinched at the mention of the Dark wizard.

"I doubt we would have been friends, though. Maybe Hermione and I, but both of you would have been expected to carry on your fathers' work in Voldemort's service if he were still around, or if he did somehow manage to defeat death," Harry continued.

"We probably wouldn't be concerned with sports or grades, either," Hermione added with a dry laugh. "There would be no time for trivial matters if our world was in the middle of a war."

"I would have fought alongside you," Theo said to Harry.

"And I with you," Draco said to Hermione.

No one even questioned Harry's supposition that she would have instinctively chosen the right side. It warmed her to know that Draco would support her, even at the implied cost. Of course, there was no way to be sure that he would be true to his word if they were thrust into entirely different circumstances. Still, Hermione liked to believe that no matter what universe they were located in, she and Draco always found their way to each other.

She leaned into his embrace, closing her eyes and blinking away the visions of another life in which she and Draco were on opposing sides. Sensing her distress, his hold on her tightened. He stood, lifting her in the process, and set her on her feet. His arms remained locked around her waist as he rested his chin on the top of her head. Although Hermione pretended to be annoyed any time he used her as an arm or headrest, she secretly loved the height difference that existed between them after Draco grew another few centimetres over the summer.

Leaning back into his embrace, she relished the way his warmth cocooned her.

"While this depressing 'what if' discussion has been fun, I think I'm going to take my witch to her room. I wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities with any _funny business._ "

Draco glared defiantly at Harry, who scowled in return.

"I'm Head Boy, Malfoy. I can still take points if I want to."

"Oh, please do, Potter. I'd love to write to my father and tell him about the unfair bias against Slytherin students."

"Quit it, you two," Hermione said with a huff.

She pulled out of Draco's embrace and threaded her fingers through his as she led him towards her room. The soft sound of Theo's voice filtered towards them as he talked Harry down from the ire Draco created.

"I don't know why you still try to ruffle his feathers," she said, once the two were securely ensconced in her bedroom.

"Because it's fun," Draco smirked at her in the way that still made her heart race. "And I like it when you scold me afterwards."

"Sweet Circe, you're impossible." She laughed. "Come here, you rascal."

* * *

Pacing the length of his room, Draco glanced around nervously to ensure everything was as he intended. Earlier in the day, Lucius insisted to Narcissa that the teenagers could stay at the manor, instead of attending the Parkinson’s New Year soiree. Once his mother _finally_ agreed, Draco knew this was the opportunity he was waiting for.

Nearly a year and a half passed since the contract signing, and almost another year on top of that since he and Hermione began dating. They had yet to take the next step in their relationship, though it wasn't for lack of wanting on either of their parts. Still, Draco was determined that a witch as special as Hermione have a memorable first time. It only happened once, and he would not waste the opportunity. He knew she thought his opinion on the matter was ridiculous, but Draco refused to be swayed. He didn't mind waiting for her until he could give her everything she deserved.

Losing their virginities to one another wasn't an impossible task at school, but there was something uncouth about having sex in a dusty old classroom, or the shared dormitories when any of their friends could walk in. Regardless of the setting, it would be rushed and frantic. Draco wanted to be able to take his time, and a hurried coupling was the exact opposite of that.

That didn't mean they had remained entirely innocent. Draco enjoyed exploring his witch and bringing her to pleasure in other ways. He was devoted to her. She always returned the favour as she mapped the planes of his body with her hands, investigating and learning all the ways that made him groan with need. Hermione loved to tease him, to _toy_ with him, and like the lovesick fool he was, Draco readily let her.

He was weak to her every whim. Or rather, her _almost_ every whim. A few times, while they were in a hidden nook or the Prefect bath, she tried to push for more, but he remained firm. When it was time, he would take her slowly and properly. Hermione always pouted after he denied her, like the stubborn witch she was. Yet, Draco found it easy to distract and satiate her with his mouth and fingers. He whispered promises against her skin that once the first time was behind them, she could have him wherever she wanted.

Of course, once the castle was out of the question, it only left the manor. While Draco and Hermione spent most holidays together, as usual, there was always someone around. Otherwise, they might have indulged in one another long ago.

However, his parents were currently out visiting their friends, Theo was preoccupied somewhere in the estate with Harry, and all the elves were under strict orders to not disturb him or Hermione.

Draco considered his options for setting the ambience but settled on lighting a few candles and making sure the softest sheets covered his mattress. He asked Hermione to meet him an hour after his parents were scheduled to leave, just to be safe.

Even though he was expecting her, Draco jumped when a soft knock echoed against his door. Scrambling to open it, he felt his breath catch at the sight of her. Hermione stood before him in the silk robe she wore to bed, her curls wild and loose around her shoulders. She was so beautiful that he could have stared at her forever.

She smiled shyly. "Hi."

"Hi." Draco took her hand in his and led her into the room.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"I've _been_ ready, Gra—"

"No." She stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Tonight, it's Hermione."

"Hermione," he repeated, leaning down to kiss her.

She hummed against his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Draco could feel her stiff nipples brush against his chest through her thin nightie and robe. Hooking his hands beneath her thighs, he wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed.

He laid her down gently before climbing onto the mattress next to her. His fingers trailed her calf as Hermione turned towards him and slung her leg over him and pressed herself to him. Since there were no pretences of what their night would entail, he hadn't bothered with a shirt. As her hands slid against the bare skin of his chest, Draco shuddered. His breathing quickened when her fingers traced lower through the grooves of his abdominal muscles and down further still to the waistband of his pyjamas. Draco gripped her wrist and held it in place just before she slid beneath the fabric.

"Wait, love."

"What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust.

"Tonight is about you."

"Draco—"

"You can't change my mind."

" _Draco—_ "

"Hush. Just trust me."

Trailing his hands down to the hem of her gown, he slid along the edge of her knickers to tease and prepare her for what was to follow. He was so nervous, even though he had touched Hermione just like this many times before. Still, the knowledge of what would soon happen made it feel as if he were inexperienced and fumbling. Yet, her sweet mewls of pleasure that steadied him, and her molten heat around his fingers served as an anchor.

Hermione's mouth latched on to his chest, biting and licking and sucking the skin there as Draco continued his ministrations. The sensation of her nails scratching against the skin of his back caused him to shiver as the pleasure shot straight to his groin. His erection pressed insistently against her hip, but Draco remained focused on all that he learnt.

Aside from his own experiences with Hermione, a book mysteriously appeared on his nightstand the summer before that detailed how to bring a witch to pleasure. Draco ravenously consumed it from front to back. Yet, now that _his_ witch was actually laying before him, it was a struggle to remember all the instructions provided in the tome. 

The two lessons that remained were the need for her to be ready for him and the importance of protection. Draco could tell by the soft fluttering of her core that Hermione was close. That was good. He needed to make sure she finished at least once before they proceeded. He brought her lips to his mouth and slowly kissed her, continuing his gentle touches until she fell apart.

When she came down from her high her eyes opened in a flutter to drink him in, and Draco rolled Hermione to her back. Kicking his pyjamas down, he slipped her knickers from her waist and threw them aside also.

Hovering over her, Draco held her gaze as he echoed her question from earlier in the evening.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes, Draco. _Gods,_ yes."

Casting a contraception charm and holding himself steady, Draco tried to line himself up with her centre. The first few attempts were unsuccessful. Despite his intimate knowledge of her body, the nerves and anticipation overwhelmed his brain entirely as he struggled to find the right position.

At one point she winced when he accidentally hit the bone of her pelvis. Sweat matted his hair to his head as he wondered how _anyone_ did this. Wasn't it supposed to come naturally? For all that he had read, none mentioned how challenging it would be to start the act itself.

The task of holding his weight, maintaining his balance, and ensuring he didn't hurt her felt overwhelming. He bit back a growl of frustration. Another witch might have laughed at his nervousness, or become restless at his continued fumbling movements. Not Hermione. She was watching him with patience and devotion.

"Let me help you," Hermione said.

Her fingers wrapped around his as she guided him. With her help, he pushed in. The feeling was incomparable to any other. Draco groaned, long and low, and he slowly slid into her. When she whimpered, his eyes flew to her face. Though a slightly pained expression crossed her face, she nodded in encouragement before pulling him to her chest and kissing him deeply.

"Keep going," she said. "Please, don't stop."

Draco wouldn't let her down.

* * *

Even though N.E.W.T.s were behind them, Hermione was beyond nervous.

The questions she knew she missed haunted her as she left the exam hall with her friends. She knew she was annoying the others as Hermione grilled them on what they thought of this question or that one, but she couldn't stop. It wasn't until Draco pulled her into a firm embrace that her thoughts finally slowed to a normal pace.

He draped an arm around her shoulders, and buried the other hand in the hair as he held her close. Hermione hid her face in his chest. With his comforting scent enveloped her, and his arms snuggly around her, she finally felt herself relax. Draco pressed a gentle kiss against the crown of her head as he ran his fingers along her spine.

"Get a room, you two," Harry said.

When Hermione looked over, her friend flashed them a teasing grin before being hauled away by Theo. Blaise could be heard in the background as he made fake retching noises.

"You're so immature." Daphne laughed and slapped Blaise on the arm.

"But that's why you love me, right, Daph?"

The girl rolled her eyes and smiled brightly, before walking away. Blaise chased after her, his loud pleas for her love echoing through the hallway.

"You'll be fine," Draco said once the others were gone.

Her hair muffled his voice. Turning to rest her chin on his chest, Hermione looked up at him with furrowed brows.

"You don't know that. I could have gotten an _Exceeds Expectations_ or worse in Potions, since Snape refuses to cease playing favourites."

Draco chuckled and leaned down to kiss her nose.

"Why does it matter, anyway? Are you planning to apply to the Auror programme with Potter? Or, perhaps you intend to become a Healer."

Hermione huffed and scowled at him.

"I could do either of those things if I wanted to."

"I know, you could, Granger."

"Draco, please, it's No—"

His lips pressed to hers insistently. For a brief moment, Hermione's brain malfunctioned entirely. She moaned softly when his hands drifted to her hips and kneaded the flesh there. Yet, when her tongue swiped against his lower lip as she sought to deepen the kiss, Draco broke the embrace.

"We can't be doing that in the middle of the hallway, _Miss_ _Nott._ Imagine the outrage at the Head Girl behaving so inappropriately."

Hermione growled in frustration as Draco slipped his hand around hers and began to walk towards their dormitories. They wandered in silence for sometime before she couldn't control her thoughts any longer.

"Do you think I should?"

Draco turned towards her with a quizzical look.

"Apply to be an Auror or a Healer..." she added.

"It's up to you." He shrugged. "I'll support you in all your endeavours."

Trying to find the balance between expectations and her own desires was difficult. Most pureblood wives joined society after graduation by hosting galas for various charities and making the appropriate appearances. Hermione hardly expected that would fulfil her. If she could _run_ a charity, that might be a different story. She would need to discuss the possibility next time she saw Narcissa. While both of her parents made it clear that Hermione could pursue whatever post-Hogwarts education she desired, her status as the future Lady Malfoy also came with specific requirements. Truthfully, Hermione wasn't even sure what she wanted to do.

In another life, she might have become a Healer, an Auror, or perhaps worked as a Curse-Breaker. She could even see another version of herself joining the Ministry, perhaps in the Department of Mysteries or in a position that promoted the welfare and rights of magical creatures. Her mother had been an advocate for other magical species, and Hermione inherited that passion. There weren't many charities that focused on said populations, but maybe Hermione could start one. She had the monetary resources, the societal connections, and it would allow her to dedicate her time to a cause that she cared about.

"I don't like that look in your eyes. It means trouble."

Draco's voice startled her from her plans. She peered at him with the most innocent expression she could muster, her eyes large and unblinking as her mouth twisted into a pretty moue.

"I have no idea what you mean, Draco."

"Yes, you do, my cunning, devious little witch. And I can't help if you keep me in the dark. So, tell me what you were thinking about."

"About all the cases I'll solve as an Auror. Maybe Ron will be my partner."

"Not a chance." 

Draco always maintained illogical, unfounded suspicion and scorn towards the other boy.

Hermione bit back a smile. She didn't understand it in the slightest, but it was fun to tease him.

"But, you said you would support—"

"If you want to be an Auror, that's fine. Potter will be your partner, though. He knows which end of his wand to point outwards. And, he doesn't leer at you like you're a delectable snack."

She laughed. "Ron isn't interested in me like that."

"Agree to disagree," Draco grumbled.

Electing to change the topic lest it devolved into an argument, Hermione hid a wicked grin as an idea came to her.

"You know what else I've been thinking about?" Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "One of my fantasies."

That grabbed his attention.

"Oh, and what might that be?"

Ever since their first time over the break, she and Draco were insatiable for one another. Once his odd yet staunch sense of chivalry was satisfied, Hermione found it easy to convince him to engage in acts of debauchery throughout the castle.

However, there was one location they had yet to brave.

"I want to sneak into the Restricted Section."

She flashed him a smirk that was eerily reminiscent of his signature grin.

"Granger! In the library?" He gasped in faux shock. "I knew you were adventurous, but to desecrate the sacred and hallowed stacks..."

She rolled her eyes at his teasing and stepped in front of him to link her other hand in his. Pushing herself on to her tiptoes, she kissed his neck.

"Are you in?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course, Draco. You always do."

"You say that now..."

He wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her before bending down to capture her lips. No matter how often they kissed, neither of them ever got tired of it.

"You've caught me." Hermione hummed. "If you refuse me, I might have to find someone else to join me instead. Maybe—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Granger."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"I know many wizards would readily line up to join you in your _adventures_ , but you're mine. I'll go with you."

She laughed at his long-suffering sigh. 

"I was only playing. If you don't want to, we won't go." 

Her hands sunk into the soft, blond hair as she drew his face closer to hers. Their lips moulded together once more, and she hummed contentedly.

"You know I would do anything for you," Draco said. "Besides, the idea of watching you try to keep quiet while you bounce on my co—"

Hermione slapped her hand over his mouth before he could go any further. She could feel his smile against her palm, and when she slid her hand away, he laughed in earnest.

"Tonight, then?" she pressed.

"Yes, love," he said, stealing one last kiss.

* * *

It was the night before they would leave Hogwarts for the last time, and Draco was flying around the pitch. There would be other Quidditch pitches in his future, but none held his heart the way this one did. The sweet victory of winning their final Cup still hung about him as the air blew through his hair. He was so caught up in the feeling of the moment, that he didn't notice his witch until she was standing below him.

He descended until he hovered just above the grass, but Draco remained firmly on his broom. If Hermione needed him, he would cut his plans short. Otherwise, he intended to ride well into the night. His eyes fell to the familiar green jumper that she wore like a dress. It covered the hem of her skirt so that only her knee-high socks were visible. 

"Is that my jersey?"

Hermione smiled at him, mischievously, as she positioned herself to stand alongside his broom. Her fingers trailed up his arms, while her other hand settled firmly on his knee.

"Ten points to Slytherin."

"What are you doing out here—"

She swallowed his question with a fiery, insistent kiss. The hand on his knee slid up his thigh to rest dangerously close to the bulge in his trousers. She gripped his shoulder as she balanced herself and began to kiss his neck.

"Granger, what—"

"Stop asking questions."

Delicate fingers brushed across his erection. He tried and failed to swallow back a strangled groan.

"I was thinking..."

"Oh, Merlin. That's never good news."

"Shut it, Malfoy. You're going to like this."

Her grip on him tightened as her lips brushed against his earlobe. Draco didn't even attempt to hide the shudder that coursed through him when she ran her tongue along the sensitive skin.

"Since our _adventure_ in the library was such a success, I figured we should play out one of your fantasies as well."

Silently and without her wand, Hermione cast several charms to disguise their presence on the pitch. The slight shimmer in the air around them was the only clue that she even exercised her magic to begin with. Not for the first time, Draco was struck by the frightening power that his witch possessed. 

He wasn't able to consider the matter any further, though. Hermione pulled his earlobe between her teeth as her hand made quick work of his trousers. Before he processed what was happening, her fingers were wrapped around his length. Her mouth descended back to his neck as she sucked and teased the pale skin above his pulse.

"Lower the broom," she murmured.

He immediately followed her instruction and watched in awe as Hermione effortlessly straddled the broomstick to face him. Somehow, she managed to do it gracefully _and_ tuck a bit of clothing beneath her bum. It was a good thing she did, too, because when the front of her skirt climbed up her thighs, Draco realised she wasn't wearing any knickers.

"Sweet Salazar, witch. Are you trying to kill me?"

His hands gripped her bum and hips as she slowly shifted further into his embrace. Her legs draped over his, and her arms wound behind his neck as she settled comfortably in his lap.

"Won't it be the sweetest death?"

Hermione crushed her lips to his in another bruising kiss. The evidence of his arousal was painfully hard and pressed between them, and when she adjusted her hips to brush against it, he nearly sobbed in relief. What followed blew Draco's mind. The way that she expertly brought them both to pleasure as he leaned back and simply held her would be burned into his memory for eternity. Hermione implicitly trusted him not to allow her to fall, and it made him feel as though his heart would burst.

Despite her dislike of broom and flying, she was willing to push out of her comfort zone for him, to give him something he wanted.

It served to confirm what he had known since they were children. Draco would never meet another witch like her, and he was the luckiest bastard to have her. Some of his actions when they began their magical education might seem to contradict his enthusiastic appreciation of her, but Draco would spend the rest of their lives, showing her how much he loved her.

When they boarded the Hogwarts Express hand in hand the next day, he was still thinking of the way her skin burned against his and the soft cry of his name that fell from her lips when she came.

"I can't believe it's really over," Hermione whispered.

"Me either, love. Let's go and find our friends."

She followed him through the familiar hall. When Draco chanced a glance at her, he saw eyes brimming with tears as Hermione smiled at the younger students they passed. The option was afforded to Seventh Years to leave school via Apparition from Hogsmeade, but Hermione insisted they finish their journey the same way it started. Draco didn't dare contradict her, but in his mind, he was glad that this train ride would be shared with her. He could only imagine how different the early years at Hogwarts might have been if he had found Hermione and Theo that first day on the train. Still, he thought it all turned out for the best.

While Hermione seemed always to have known what she wanted, Draco thought he benefitted in the long run from the distance the plagued them at the start of their formal education. There was never another witch for him, other than her, but Draco needed that time to grow and figure out what he wanted. Outside of their fathers' expectations, and the way everyone in the school seemed to anticipate that he and Hermione were inevitable, Draco was glad that he was able to choose her.

He was fortunate that she deemed him worthy of another chance.

His hand tightened around hers as they arrived at the cabin containing their friends.

"Looks like the lovebirds finally made it!" 

Blaise grinned at him from where he sat beside Daphne. His arm was slung around the witch's shoulders, and they both looked blissfully content. Draco fell into the seat across from the pair and pulled Hermione into his lap.

"Sorry we're late, we were busy snogging," Draco said.

Hermione smacked his shoulder playfully, before leaning further into his arms.

"As we all have come to expect of you both," Harry added.

"Oh, get off your moral high horse, Potter. We've all had the displeasure of walking in on you and Nott getting hot and heavy," Draco retorted

Theo glared at hhim, but Draco pointedly ignored the other boy and elected to sneer at Harry instead.

"You know, you two are going to have to learn to get along eventually since Theo and I will be sharing one of the Nott townhomes in the city."

Draco groaned and buried his face in Hermione's thick curls. 

"Remind me why you're doing that again?"

"Just because you and Harry are constantly at each other's throats doesn't mean either of us should have to suffer," Theo answered.

"He's right. We've lived together, or at least in close proximity our entire lives," Hermione added primly. "I hardly see why we should have to change our plans just to accommodate you two."

Draco knew better than to argue, but he resolved to use all the weapons in his arsenal to persuade her, once they were in private. For now, he would just enjoy the company of his witch and their friends.


	11. Post-Hogwarts

The months after graduation passed by in a whirlwind of activity.

Shortly after the summer began, Hermione and Draco set out for an extended trip to the United States. There were countless magical and Muggle cities she wanted to explore, and of course, Draco indulged her every step of the way.

Theo and Harry joined them for the first leg of the trip in New York before her brother joined their father in seeing to business matters. Blaise and Daphne met them when Hermione and Draco toured New Orleans. It was mere coincidence that led them to cross paths with Pansy and Neville in San Francisco. Hermione wouldn't have consciously chosen to spend time with Pansy, but she was happy to see that Neville mellowed the other woman out.

As soon as she returned from her travels, Hermione set about coordinating Draco's eighteen birthday gala with Narcissa. Planning parties was hardly her forte, but Hermione did enjoy the time she spent with the older witch. The hours she and Narcissa spent together were especially important, since Hermione and Theo now resided at the Nott property in the city.

Malfoy Manor was never officially been her home, but for all intents and purposes it was the only one Hermione had known since she started Hogwarts. Her teenage years were full of warm memories of Narcissa and Lucius. While it was a welcome shift into adulthood to have her own space with Theo, knowing that Narcissa was only a quick Floo trip away helped tremendously. The transition was also made easier by the fact that Draco spent the night more often than not, and the benefit of additional privacy was something Hermione relished.

Besides, with the revolving door of friends and familiar faces that constantly haunted their townhome, it sometimes felt as if she never left Hogwarts at all.

Once the birthday preparations were seen to, Hermione set about to enact her plans for charity work. Narcissa had assured her that the Malfoy vaults were at Hermione's disposal once she decided to start her own foundation. It was a kind gesture, but unneeded, as Hermione intended to use her own inheritance towards furthering her goals once she reached that stage in her plan. Narcissa had recommended hosting individual events as an excellent place to begin, and Hermione reluctantly agreed.

That was how Hermione found herself entertaining the witches and wizards of high society in one of the smaller ballrooms of Malfoy Manor on an early afternoon at the peak of the summer season. She wanted to launch her career as an activist with a bang by fighting for the rights of house-elves or werewolves. However, through Narcissa's guidance, Hermione elected for a less provocative cause.

Everyone agreed that the care of orphans among the magical community was a cause that could always use more funding, so Hermione hosted a soiree to promote and raise money for a local orphanage. The event seemed to be a success, or so Hermione thought until she heard several older witches gossiping amongst themselves.

"Miss Nott is such a strange one, isn't she?" one of the witches whispered.

It seemed _she_ was the topic of conversation.

"Did you see the dress she wore? I can't believe Narcissa would allow the girl to stain the halls of the manor with something so _tasteless_. It practically clings to her like a second skin," another added derisively.

Hermione glanced down at her Muggle gown as the group of witches all tittered. 

It was blush pink with a high neck, and a fitted silhouette. She thought it was pretty and an unassuming, modest choice. After watching her mother prefer Muggle garments over traditional robes for years, Hermione hardly thought twice about her choice. She didn't think Narcissa minded.

"Yes, well, you know that the girl is betrothed to Narcissa's son, and from what I’ve heard, the Ms. Nott is rather... _headstrong_ ," the first witch responded. "I imagine Narcissa is only doing what she can to avoid discord in the home, though I don’t envy her for it."

Hermione's stomach twisted into a knot. She really should say something. 

"I heard that the Malfoy boy is only with that girl because of the contract Lord Nott and Lord Malfoy signed when they were mere infants," a third witch murmured. 

Slinking further behind one of the large, potted plants at the edge of the room, Hermione felt her face heat with shame. She knew she was behaving cowardly, but it felt increasingly difficult to stand up to the women when they so accurately vocalised one of her deepest insecurities. Hermione anxiously twisted the signet ring on her finger.

Maybe she could cast a charm to disillusion herself and slink out quietly. Narcissa could handle the crowd easily until Hermione composed herself and felt ready to return.

"Lucius should have known better than to throw his lot in with such an odd bunch."

There were hums of agreement from the rest of the group. Hermione made up her mind to leave when another woman spoke and caused her blood to turn to ice.

"The disgrace that young Mister Nott brings to their line by cavorting with—"

"Good afternoon, ladies. Have any of you seen the lovely Miss Nott?"

A familiar voice cut the hateful witch off midsentence, and a sense of relief flooded through her at the sound of the gravelly, baritone tone of her betrothed. She closed her eyes and concentrated on him. Sneaking around the other side of the plant, Hermione slowly allowed herself to come into view. She stood far enough so as not to appear suspicious, but within his line of sight.

Draco closed the distance between them in a few long strides. 

"There you are, love," he said, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek. 

He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

"You've done a wonderful job."

His praise was uncharacteristically effusive, and Herminoe knew it was done so that the witches near the entrance of the ballroom could hear.

She was forever grateful for his unwavering support.

"Thank you." She smiled up at him. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm sorry I'm late. The meeting with my father ran longer than I anticipated."

"It doesn’t matter, just so long as you're here. But, for future reference, I think I could forgive anything, when you're wearing _that_."

Draco shot her a mischievous grin and winked.

"You like the suit," he teased.

"It shows off your physique so well. How could I not?"

Hermione was initially surprised that it took so little convincing to get Draco in Muggle clothing. He later confided that the heated look in her eyes whenever she saw his arse in the tailored, bespoke suits he wore was worth any unease. 

Hermione wasn't ashamed to admit that she always harboured a small fascination with his bum. She caught glimpses of it in his Quidditch trousers, but otherwise, the robes he wore throughout their school years did a stand-up job of concealing it. Now, it was often on display as he grew more and more comfortable in the new apparel.

"Do you really think the event is a success?"

"I do. I only caught the tail-end of what those old hags were gossiping about, but don't let them discourage you. I would've hexed them myself if I knew my mother wouldn't be scandalised by it."

Hermione looked up to realise he led them out into the hallway, before steering her towards one of the sitting rooms. The music of the string quartet and the din of the crowd subsided to a low hum as they entered the private space.

Once the door shut behind him, Draco turned to her. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he wasn't able to hold her gaze. It made Hermione nervous.

"Granger– Or rather, Hermione, I know you have plans that you'd like to accomplish. You know that there are certain expectations of us, though."

"Yes, I know… We’ve talked about them at length. What's going on? Did something change?"

"No, nothing has changed, love. Don’t worry. I’m still madly in love with you and I'm fine with waiting until the age set by the contract, but I think it would make everyone rest easier if I gave you this."

Thrusting a small, black box into her grasp, Draco rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. When she opened the lid, it revealed one of the Malfoy heirloom diamonds, surrounded by a halo of emeralds. Draco made it seem as if giving her a ring was an unfortunate compromise between what their parents wanted and what _they_ had planned, but Hermione couldn't be more pleased.

"Usually words are exchanged. At the very least, a question is asked," she said with a grin. "It’s been decided between us though for so long it almost feels anticlimactic at this point. Still, I’d like it if you put it on for me."

She handed the box back to him and he flashed her a startled look in return. Her easy acceptance seemed to have stunned him into silence as he slid the ring onto her finger. His assumption she would put up a fuss wasn’t entirely unfounded, considering they managed to squabble about the most inane of topics. 

With the diamond resting on her finger, Hermione lifted it up for inspection before moving to pull his signet ring off so she could give it back to him. 

His hand then wrapped around hers and stopped the movement.

"Keep it."

Hermione smiled and placed the hand that bore both of his rings against his cheek. She leaned up for a kiss, smiling against his mouth at the sheer bliss that was their lives.

* * *

Walking towards the Ministry Atrium with a heavy sigh, Draco wondered if this was what his life had come to. For the past two years, he served as a clerk for the Wizengamot. It certainly wasn’t what he expected when he finished school and joined wizarding society, but he supposed it could be far worse. Immediately after graduation, he started as one of the general clerks, and others were right to assume that his father had secured him the position. Draco didn't care if they thought less of him for utilising his connections. After all, he wouldn't have been chosen _solely_ based on being Lucius' son and the Malfoy heir.

If his application and interview hadn't been up to standard, Draco would have been thrown out on his arse. Further, if his work ethic were shoddy, he wouldn't have been offered the position of clerk for the Chief Warlock after his first year working for the court. Despite his success, Draco found himself utterly bored. It didn’t really matter what he thought or felt, though. The clerkships were the first step in his father's plan to position Draco to campaign for Minister for Magic.

He knew this map of his life existed since the moment Draco was conceived, but that didn't mean he found it fulfilling. The only bright spot in his existence was Hermione. At least his father hadn't tied him to some boring, simpering, insipid witch.

Draco exited the lifts to find _his_ witch waiting for him, almost as if Hermione had known that he needed her after an exceptionally tedious day in the courtroom. It took everything not to sprint to her the moment he laid eyes on her. Still, he managed a dignified yet brisk stride to where she stood.

"Hi, Draco."

Hermione turned her face to the side so he could lean down and kiss her cheek. It wasn't the way he wanted to greet her, but it would have to do. They weren't kids anymore, and this wasn't Hogwarts. Even at school, he managed to keep his baser desires in check when they were in public. Now, it was even more imperative that they portrayed the perfect picture of propriety.

With Hermione's charity and activist work still in its fledgeling stages and his unannounced but expected future bid for Minister, they couldn't afford to take any chances. The reporters and photographers for the society section of the _Prophet_ were bewitched with the two of them. It was near impossible for either of them to go anywhere without the press covering it. When the darlings of pureblood society were seen together, it caused all sorts of commotion.

He and Hermione were heralded as the future of wizarding society. They represented the old traditions of arranged marriages and alliances between ancient Houses. Yet, they also acted as the delegates for change. Whereas his parents courted for one year and then married as soon as Narcissa graduated, Draco and Hermione were doing things on their own timeline.

With the gold, antique engagement ring twinkling on her finger, he and Hermione were afforded a bit of leniency. Their parents agreed to accommodate them, so long as they observed proper etiquette in the public eye and married before his twenty-first birthday, as dictated by the contract.

It also helped that Hermione, and to a slightly lesser extent Draco, was so open and unabashed about embracing all things Muggle. The press found it fascinating that a pureblood witch would so readily integrate the two worlds. For Draco, who had known her since birth, it was perfectly in line with all that Hermione was. He admired the way she so seamlessly flitted between wizarding and Muggle cultures.

A camera flashed as he slipped his fingers through hers. Just as he anticipated, the press was there to capture the latest in their mundane daily life. At the risk of sounding conceited, Draco knew at least a fraction of the fascination with them was because of their looks.

Hermione had always been beautiful, even when she was an awkward child with busy hair and too large teeth. Still, the years since they completed their magical education had been very kind to her.

She was the epitome of class and grace.

Her curls hung down her back in long, ringlets, and while there was still a wild look to her hair, it seemed as if it was so by design. As she began to appear in the papers, young witches started to mimic the style. 

Draco loved the full figure that she accentuated with Muggle clothing and robes that were designed by Daphne. Their friend launched her fashion line shortly after graduation, with Blaise providing additional funding and oversight for the logistics of the company. Daphne created everyday and business wear that was inspired by Muggle fashion, and with Hermione as the face of her campaign, demand was high.

"You seem pensive today."

Hermione squeezed his hand and pulled Draco out of his reflections.

"I'm just thinking about how well everyone is doing since we graduated."

"You included," she said, pride evident in her tone.

"Yes, but I'm _bored_ , Granger."

She huffed at the name but didn't correct him.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I'm simply tired of the mundanity," Draco continued quietly as they walked along the cobbled street.

"You like the legislation and systemic aspect of it, don’t you?"

"I do But, would it be too much to ask for them to join the current century and update some of the laws?"

"You could bring that about. Maybe you can go to a Muggle university and get a law degree."

Draco snorted. "I don't think that fits into my father's ten-year plan for me."

"He could be convinced. If you had those qualifications and enacted change within the Wizengamot, once you took the Malfoy seat, it would only strengthen any future endeavours."

"You're right," he sighed.

"I know I am," she responded with a small smirk.

"And frightening in your cunning."

"I've been told on several occasions."

"Any other plans you have for me, pretty witch?"

He saw her bite her lip to keep from smiling fully at the term of endearment.

"Well, first you're going to take me to dinner—"

"Done."

Hermione laughed brightly.

"You don't even know where I want to go!"

"I would follow you anywhere. What's next?"

Pulling him into a hug, Hermione stretched to speak into his ear as his hands settled on her hips. To a passerby, they simply appeared to be two young lovers, wrapped in an embrace.

"Then, you'll take me home and shag me senseless. Theo is at Harry's tonight, so we can be as loud as we want."

"You say that as if we aren't already."

The temptation to slide his hands a little lower and squeeze her arse was great, but Draco resisted.

"What if I told you that I'm especially annoyed with my brother for eating the last of my takeaway from the other night, so I intend to ride you and sully his favourite couch?"

"I would say that your deviousness never fails to astound me."

"Good. Once those two things are seen to, we can take a bath. You'll tell me all about your day, and I'll tell you how we're going to take over the world."

Draco grinned down and revelled in the way her eyes sparkled. 

"Am I to be the consort of the greatest, more fearsome Dark Witch of an age? I'm not opposed, but I feel like this is important to know."

More bright, bubbly laughter spilt from her. Even after all this time, Draco was still hopelessly addicted to the sound. He wanted to lean in and taste the laughter on her lips.

"Everything will be perfectly legal, Draco."

"Whatever you say, love. You're the beauty and the brains of the operation. I'm just here for the ride."

Hermione slid under his arm and wrapped hers around him.

"I keep you around because of your tight arse."

Her hand stealthily slid down to sneak a squeeze before settling her fingers back on his waist.

"You're incorrigible, Granger."

"And you love me for it."

That he did.

* * *

Hermione crossed her arms and menacingly glared at Draco. They'd been arguing for the past ten minutes on the best way to make pancakes. It seemed they reached a standoff.

"Is this really how you want to spend our last morning as an engaged couple?" she asked.

"Yes, Granger, it is. At least, until you admit that I'm right."

"You're not right, though! And I know for a fact that you've never even made pancakes yourself! So, the fact that you refuse to concede is absolutely preposterous."

"Why don't we call Pipsey, then? She can settle it."

"We are not calling your house-elf, Draco. Everyone here knows she's devoted to you. Of course, she'll side with you."

Hermione glanced over to Theo and Harry in the hope that she might receive some support. However, the two appeared pointedly engrossed in the crossword puzzle before them. It was a habit that Harry picked up while living in the United States from Sirius and Remus. Hermione knew that both Theo and Harry enjoyed completing it together as part of their weekend routine. However, she couldn't help but feel betrayed at their pointed silence.

"Pipsey won't agree with me simply because she's been with me since birth. She'll agree with me because I'm right and you're wrong."

"Don't you dare call her, Draco. If you know what's good for you—"

"Just let her make the pancakes her way, Malfoy," Theo drawled.

Well, it was nice to learn she still had a brother, as belated as his support might be.

"The racket is disturbing our morning routine, and she'll be intolerable until you conceded," Theo continued.

Just like that, Hermione felt the sharp pang of the proverbial knife in her back. Before she could retort, Harry jumped in.

"Besides, we all know you don't _want_ to cook, Malfoy."

"For once, Potter, you have a point," Draco said.

Hermione screeched in frustration.

"So, you'll concede to Harry, your self-proclaimed sworn enemy. But, on the same matter, you refuse to acknowledge I'm right? I'm to be your wife, _tomorrow_ , Draco."

She tossed the unfinished batter and stormed from the room in a flurry of curls and raw, crackling magic. As she stomped up the stairs, she could hear Harry chortling as Theo urged Draco to follow her. Her brother was only trying to keep the peace, but Hermione was too angry to care.

Throwing herself across her bed, she wandlessly closed the door with a slam. It would be her last night in this bed, in this room. Tomorrow, after the wedding, she and Draco would be catching a portkey to their honeymoon. He planned the entire trip, only telling her to pack for a tropical locale. Daphne interpreted that as meaning clothing was optional, despite Hermione's many protests.

As it were, her luggage contained several rather skimpy bikinis, more lingerie than she knew what to do with, and very few actual clothes. 

With only days until Draco's twenty-first birthday, she wondered briefly if it was too late to back out. That stubborn, ignorant man that couldn't admit her pancake technique was better was hardly worthy enough to be her husband. 

No, that was a lie, and Hermione knew it. Draco had many wonderful, redeeming qualities, that vastly outweighed his infuriating intransigence. Still, remind herself of that did nothing to soothe her ire. 

A soft knocking at the door startled her from her furious thoughts.

"Hermione."

Oh, of course, he would call her that _now._

"Go away."

"Let me in, love."

"No, I don’t think I will."

"Hermione, please."

"I said, go away."

She was sulking, and she was well aware of it, but Hermione hardly cared. Maybe it was the stress of the wedding, which was slated to be the event of the year. Or, it might have been that her charity work had become incredibly stressful as of late. It wasn't that she didn't love him. Even now, she knew that. Despite her earlier anger-fueled thoughts, she wanted him. 

Still, she deserved to throw a tantrum, if she wanted to. Ever early adolescence, Hermione was _always_ expected to maintain the perfect poise. Though, to be fair, it was an expectation she often failed at, like now. At this point, Draco should expect it.

The doorknob turned quietly, and the mattress dipped with his weight. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and held her close to him.

"Hermione—"

"I'm a bitch," she said.

"No, you're not."

She twisted in his hold so that they were nose to nose. Her fingers brushed along one of his sharp cheekbones before tracing the shape of his lips. The lines of his face were burned in her memory, but the awe she felt every time she studied him closely never seemed to fade.

"It's one of my many faults. I'm also headstrong, obstinate, and a sore loser. I overwork myself and don't know how to ask for help."

"Why are you telling me these things?"

His lips brushed softly across hers as he spoke.

"You should know what you're getting into when you say your vows tomorrow, and we bind our magic to one another. You need to be well aware of all my faults."

"I'm aware of every single one of them, you silly witch. Or, did you forget we've known each other since before we can remember?"

"Yes, well, you should be _reminded_ of them, then. I want you to know what you're getting into. Although it's not as if you have much choice."

"Don't say that. I want you. In every life, it’ll always be you."

Draco moulded his mouth against her neck as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there.

"Your father _chose_ you for me. And, if I hadn't been born a Nott, who's to say he would have even considered me an option?"

"Sometimes, you need to turn your mind off for a bit. We also made the decision ourselves back in Fourth Year when you gave me another chance..."

He kissed her cheeks, nose, forehead, and eyelids. Soft lips trailed across her jaw and back down to her neck until he finally captured her mouth with his once more.

"Tomorrow, you'll be my wife, and there is no one else I'd rather be married to."

"You only say that because you haven't known anyone else."

"Pansy tried to kiss me at the Yule Ball when we attended together. It made me feel physically ill. That's all the confirmation I need."

"The same happened to me with Ron, our Third Year."

Draco looked ready to commit murder. "That slimy little weasel tried to kiss you?"

"It was barely more than a peck. Even less than _our_ first kiss, on your eleventh birthday."

"I always knew he wanted you—"

"Draco, focus on me."

"He's constantly leering at you when he thinks no one is looking—"

"Draco! I need you."

His attention was instantly on her.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Help me turn my mind off, please. Like you suggested."

Hermione pushed him onto his back and climbed atop him.

"Granger, we agreed to wait until after the wedding."

"Oh, so it's back to Granger now that you're in my good graces again?"

"It's a habit," he groaned when she rolled her hips against his.

"Please, Draco. I need you," she repeated.

"You fight dirty, witch."

Hermione leaned down to capture his lip between her teeth as her hands pinned his above his head. She ground down on him more insistently. They'd kept up the agreement of no sex for the past week, and Hermione was hungry for him. There was no better way to distract her busy mind than by losing herself with him.

"I know," she said with an impish grin. "So, what do you say?"

"Fuck." He growled and flipped her onto her back. "Yes."

* * *

"Only twenty-two years old and already a member of the Wizengamot! Your father must be proud that you're continuing the Malfoy legacy."

The older wizard – _Hawkworth, was it?_ – slapped Draco soundly on the shoulder as he chortled genially.

"Yes, sir. I imagine he is."

"At this rate, you'll be a prime candidate for Minister in no time."

"That's the plan, sir," Draco muttered to himself.

"What was that, my boy?"

"Nothing, sir. I'm just pleased to serve our community in any way required of me."

"It's young wizards like you that give me hope for our future. And, will we be graced by the presence of your pretty little wife, tonight?"

Draco scanned the crowd of the Ministry gala to avoid ripping the man's head off with his bare hands. _He_ could call Hermione pretty and little, and he did so often. Yet, when the other man called her those things, he managed to make those same words sound condescending. As if Hermione were nothing more than a piece of arm candy for Draco to parade about.

If anything, it was the other way around.

Hermione was excelling in the management of her foundation, and was ready to take on more. After several conversations with his parents, it was decided that she would assume leadership of Malfoy Industries. Meanwhile, Draco would continue on his path in politics. Lucius loved the idea Hermione had about Draco studying law, and he was now on his way towards obtaining _more_ education. Draco secretly suspected that Hermione just wanted the excuse to read more books as she helped him study.

He was lucky to have her.

"There she is now," Draco said, turning to the snivelling, old man. "Please, allow me to excuse myself."

The wizard opened his mouth to say something else. Perhaps he was hoping for an introduction to the young Lady Malfoy. Draco didn't stick around to find out. With as much grace and tact as possible, he slid away and towards his witch.

She looked ravishing in a gold, silk dress that clung to her curves in a way that should be illegal. Her beautiful, riotous curls were now much tamer in a low chignon that grazed the back of her neck. Draco couldn't wait until they got home so he could cancel the charms holding her hair in place and run his fingers through it. Taking the dress off wouldn't be so bad, either.

Wrapping his arm snuggly around her waist, Draco glared at the wizard with whom she was speaking. The man wasn't even being subtle about staring at her chest.

"If I can borrow my wife, for a moment," Draco said with all the cold, aristocratic superiority he could muster.

However, the minute Hermione turned to smile up at him, his irritation immediately melted. Unconsciously she leaned further into his embrace, even as his hand drifted to her lower back. He guided her away from the uncouth wizard and towards their table for the evening.

"Are you enjoying yourself, love?"

"My feet are killing me." She flashed him a small pout. "I wish you could carry me everywhere."

"I would if you wanted me to."

Hermione laughed and bumped his side with her shoulder.

"Thank you for the offer, my sweet husband. Maybe we'll settle on a foot massage, later. Or, _maybe_ we can abscond to your office to liven up this otherwise droll evening."

Draco had to stifle a groan at the implication as her words sent a shot of desire straight to his groin. His hand on her back felt like it was on fire, and he fought the urge to whisk her away and ravish her.

"As much as I would _love_ to defile every surface of this building with you, I actually have a surprise for you that we can't afford to miss."

"Oh? Another piece of jewellery?" She raised her brow playfully. "I do need some earrings to match."

Draco's gaze flickered down to the emerald pendant that she adorned her neck. He gifted it to her at their wedding. It matched the engagement ring that was now accompanied by a simple golden band. She often still wore the necklace he gifted her all those years ago, but this was a special occasion. It was their first official appearance since he was appointed to the Wizengamot.

"I think you'll like this more than jewels."

If he thought she was a witch that enjoyed gems and trinkets, Draco would have given her a priceless piece from his family and personal vaults every week. He knew her better than that, though.

"Oh, that seems _impossible_."

She grinned at him. 

"Hush, you cheeky minx."

"I will if you tell me what the surprise is."

"Nice try, but no. It'll be announced soon."

"An announcement?"

"Yes, but you won't get another word out of me."

"We'll see about that, Mister Malfoy."

She pinched his side as Draco moved to pull her chair out for her. 

"Behave, or I'll be forced to punish you when we get home," he whispered so that only she could hear.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

She smiled saucily, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, and it took every ounce of willpower not to snog her there at the table until she was flushed and breathless. With a final warning glance, Draco took his seat beside her. Dinner was served shortly after, a mediocre meal if he'd ever had one, and then the speeches began.

When one of his colleagues announced the initiative to increase the rights and protections afforded to werewolves, Hermione spun to stare at him in awe. It was the first major project he co-authored as part of the wizarding legislative body, and one that he was proud to throw his resources and connection behind.

In the past year, Hermione's foundation had begun a campaign to advocate for werewolves. Draco found it hard to fathom why she chose that particular species, but he knew better than to question her. Further, any cause that Hermione supported, he did as well. He was more and more enamoured with her every day, and he didn’t care who knew it.

The way she brightly beamed and clapped wildly when his name was announced in its relation to the bill made the tireless efforts of the past few months entirely worth it. As soon as they were through the Floo and back in his study, she flung her arms around him and hoisted herself into his embrace.

"I still can't believe it, Draco! How did you keep it from me for so long?"

Draco shrugged. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, consider me surprised. Now, how should I reward you?"

"I didn't do it for a _reward_ , Granger!"

"You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?"

Her hands were trailing down his chest and torso as she slowly slid to her knees. Draco sunk both hands into her curls, mussing and releasing them from their confinement until her hair resembled the wild mane he loved so much.

"Why would I? It's practically a term of endearment."

"You're impossible," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Her fingers deftly plucked at the button and zipper of his trousers.

"No, I'm lovable."

"Debatable."

"I'm lucky."

"That's probably true."

"I'm yours."

She smiled up at him softly.

"Yes, you are."

Hauling her to her feet, Draco pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

Sometimes, when he thought back on their history together, he still couldn’t believe that Hermione had chosen him, in spite of everything they had been through. The stars must have truly aligned to match him with a witch that was as captivating and enchanting as she was maddening. His witch was the only person capable of challenging and inspiring Draco to be better than he could ever be on his own. 

No one would ever compare to Hermione, and with every day they shared Draco was more certain of that fact.

As his lips pillowed against hers and his tongue slid across the seam of her mouth, Draco was struck by how addicted he was to the way she tasted. Even after all this time, he could never get enough. He pulled away just a fraction, and studied the way her chest heaved, her swollen lips, and the pretty blush that coloured her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

She was brilliant.

She was _his_.


	12. Epilogue

Lyra Malfoy sprang from her bed with the energy only an enthusiastic eleven year old could possess. The day she waited for since she learnt about magic and Hogwarts had finally arrived! 

Her brother Scorpius started school two years before, and the realisation that she would finally be joining him was almost more than she could bear. She sped through their townhome in search of her parents. There were still several hours before they would depart for Kings' Cross, but Lyra wanted to ensure her mother and father were both ready. 

Skidding to a stop outside her mother's office at the sound of voices, Lyra peeked through the crack in the door. Hermione was standing in front of the fireplace, her hands on her hips as she spoke rapidly in Japanese. Lyra knew better than to eavesdrop, but from the sounds of it, there were issues at the Tokyo branch of Malfoy Industries that needed her mother's attention.

The little blonde girl tiptoed away so as not to disturb the critical call.

Her father wasn't in his study, where Lyra expected him to be. She peeped into Scorpius' room before continuing her search for her father. She found her brother sleeping soundly and rolled her eyes in a way that people said was eerily similar to her mother. 

Hearing the comparison always made Lyra's chest swell with pride. In terms of appearances, both she and Scorpius took after their father. With slate grey eyes and pale hair, the two of them looked just like Draco and Lucius. The only physical evidence of her mother that Lyra bore was the curls that cascaded down her back in perfect ringlets. That was why she loved it when her aunts and uncles told her that one of her mannerisms was a perfect copy of Hermione.

Lyra continued her trek, following the smell of bacon to the kitchen. Her father was standing by the stove, an apron wrapped snugly around his waist. With one hand, he tended to the pan, and with the other, he flicked his wand to flip through cue cards. He was speaking lowly, to himself. Lyra recognised the words instantly. With the campaign for his reelection for the Minister for Magic well underway, and it wasn't uncommon to find Draco practising his speeches at any available moment.

She knew that her father would call for both of the children when the meal was ready. So, instead of interrupting him, she raced back to her room to ensure her bed was made, her toys and books were stored properly, and her luggage was ready to go.

Breakfast passed quickly, and before Lyra knew it, she was arriving at the station with her parents and brother in tow. She practically vibrated with excitement as she ran to greet her grandfather and grandmama, and grand-peré. Scorpius followed suit before seeking out his friend, Rose, and their cousin James.

Lyra watched curiously as her father glared at Rose's dad. She didn't know Mister Weasley well, or his wife, Susan. Still, Lyra could tell her father didn't care for the man. It must be some sort of adult thing that she couldn’t hope to understand until she was older. Turning to look around the platform, she found her Uncles Theo and Harry standing with her other cousin, Jean.

Beside them was James and Jean's mother. Her own mother had explained to Lyra that her Aunt Luna was kind enough to act as a surrogate for her uncles. Lyra wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she was happy her cousins had three parents who loved them so much.

Aunt Luna was talking animatedly to her mother's friend Neville. He was flanked by his wife, Pansy, and their daughter Poppy. Lyra didn't know the other girl as well as her cousin Jean or her best friend Diana, but she hoped that since they were all the same year, they could be friends. Poppy was currently hiding half behind her father's leg and Lyra decided that she would better acquaint herself with the girl once she found Diana.

Scanning the crowd, her eyes landed on her best friend. She was walking hand in hand with Uncle Blaise and Aunt Daphne. Lyra tugged on her mother's hand, interrupting her conversation with Grandmama Narcissa.

"Mum, can I go say hello to Diana?"

Hermione looked across the platform in the direction that Lyra pointed.

"Yes, sweetheart. Then, come right back. Your father is getting weepy, and I don't want him to lose his head if he can't find you."

Lyra nodded enthusiastically before running to Diana. She greeted her friend with a tight hug and herded Diana and her parents towards the place where the Malfoys congregated. Then she twined her fingers with her best friend's, and skipped over to collect her cousin and uncles.

Jean flashed Lyra and Diana a wide smile but their boisterous arrival only seemed to startle Poppy, who shrunk further into Neville.

"Hi! I'm Lyra Malfoy. We've met before! This is Diana Zabini." 

Lyra extended her hand to the dark-haired girl.

"Poppy Longbottom."

The girl timidly shook her hand.

"My parents and grandparents are waiting over there for Jean and me. Would you like to come with us? We can all share a cabin on the train!"

After looking up to her parents for confirmation, Poppy nodded.

Lyra expertly led the group back to join the rest of her family, and noticed that her father was searching the crowd for her. He had one arm anchored around her mother, or maybe Hermione was the one mooring Draco to prevent him from frantically running through the assembly of students and their parents.

"Daddy, I'm right here!"

She bounced to a stop in front of him and wrapped her arms around his torso.

Draco bent to bury his face in her hair.

"Don't scare me like that, sweetheart."

"You're going to have to get used to me being gone."

Lyra looked up to smile at him as Hermione rubbed a hand along his back, attempting to placate him. 

"I don't have to like it," her father grumbled under his breath.

Hermione tsked. "Hush, now, Draco. Don't ruin her big day for her."

"I'm just going to miss you, little one."

"I know, daddy. I'll miss you, too. I promise I'll write to you every week!"

"See that you do. You know I'll be entirely despondent in between our correspondences. I want every detail of your first year, send me an owl as soon as that old hat sorts you into Sly—"

"Stop being so dramatic, _and stop trying to influence her,_ " Hermione said, cutting him off with a laugh. 

Turning towards Lyra, she smiled and stroked her daughter's cheek.

"Please write to us when you can, darling, but don't fret over your father. We'll both be fine. And we'll be thrilled no matter what House you get sorted in to. If you miss us, we'll come to visit you just as soon as we can. Otherwise, we’ll see you over the Christmas holiday."

Lyra wrapped her hands around her mother's and squeezed tightly as a loud whistle signalled the impending departure of the Hogwarts Express. With another rounds of hugs for her parents and grandparents, and her aunts and uncles, Lyra boarded the train with her friends, old and new. She chose a cabin facing the platform and stood by the window, waving goodbye to her family for a final time as the train began to speed away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetestsorrows), [Tumblr](https://sweetestsorrows.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sweetest_sorrows/).


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